The Verbose Variations of V and Evey
by JustBFree
Summary: Story is told in the movieverse, alternating between V and Evey's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** The conversation between V and Evey is from both the film (seen it twice so far and loved every minute of it!) and the film novelization

**V**

She's here, sleeping in one of the spare rooms. My unconscious guest. I'd never intended to use these rooms to house someone of welcome- they were for storing my prohibited treasures, my banned beauties.

Her hair is different than it was last night- the curls are pulled back and her clothes are the uniform of a girl struggling on the bottom rung of the career ladder. She is just like everyone else. I imagine that she has few friends, if any, and no family, no…significant other. Perhaps she is alone in the world, perhaps not- but nonetheless, she will be mine for one year.

_I don't want to do this, but what choice do I have? _

I don't mean to stare at her as she sleeps, but it's been quite a long time since I've been in close quarters with someone that was not an opponent. This strange creature is asleep, and if she were awake, I know that it would be no effort for me to overpower her. I shift my weight as I stand here in the doorway and wonder if anyone has even noticed that she's been taken.

_Does anyone care enough to miss Evey Hammond?_

Evey.

It's been several hours, she will be awake soon. I leave her room, careful to leave the door half-open. What will she say when she wakes up? What will she think? She helped me in the Tower, even when she knew that I could have helped myself. I took care of three Fingermen right before her eyes just last night; did she really think that a lone policeman would capture me?

Part of me thinks that she wanted to help, another part of me thinks that she might have just jumped at the chance to hurt a man of Sutler's- perhaps she just wanted to inflict a tiny fraction of the pain that they've caused, just a tiny bit of payback, of vengeance…

It doesn't matter, because I know that she will be awake soon and I can just ask her the million-dollar question, but the real issue that I must face is what I am to do with her now. She can't return to her dingy little apartment, she can't go back to her thankless little job. Evey is homeless, and wanted by every officer in London now, because she chose to help me.

How am I to repay her? That woman- that _girl_ will be captured, raped, beaten, and tortured in body and mind in every way possible, from being poisoned and starved to that ancient Chinese method of driving your victim mad with water droplets until finally, she will be dragged out somewhere and shot. And that is if she is lucky…

I can't let that happen, and because Evey chose to help me,I must nowkeep herhere in the Shadow Gallery. She will hate me, and fear me as well- I worry that upon seeing me again, she will assume the worst, that my aim in bringing her here with me is only to use her in the way intended by the Fingermen from the other night. _Never mind that I cannot…_

The jukebox is playing again. I want her to hear this music, banned for years, and awaken. I want her to come to me, to speak to me. Good God, could it be that after almost twenty years alone, I might actually wish to have a bit of companionship? _I suppose your solitude and isolation has finally driven you mad, eh, old man?_

_Oh, do shut up, I was mad before I ever longed for company- I am, after all, having a conversation with myself, am I not? And not for the first time, either!_

I hear the door open, and soft footsteps come closer. There she is, it's Evey! Her hair is a bit mussed and her clothes are wrinkled, but she fascinates me. Her eyes sweep over the galleries, lighting on the statues and the paintings hanging on the wall as if they might come alive at any time.

_The music interests her_.

The song goes on for a few more lines, and I decide to claim her interest. She turns around and starts. "Oh! You scared me."

"My apologies, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, thank you." She seems wary of me, but not truly afraid. That was something, at least. Her eyes roam the room. "What is this place?"

"My home," I reply, and pause before adding, "I call it the Shadow Gallery."

"It's beautiful," is her immediate reply. I suppose that, in a way, it was beautiful. I'd grown accustomed to the place and everything in it, but to look upon the Gallery for the first time must have been a truly moving experience for her.

There were tears of wonder shining in the corner of her eyes. "Where did you get all this stuff?"

I wouldn't have called my treasures 'stuff', but if she was asking… "Here and there, much of it comes from the vaults of the Ministry of Objectionable Materials."

"You stole them?"

"Heavens, no! Stealing implies ownership. You cannot steal from a censor. I merely _reclaimed_ them."

"God, if they ever find this place--"

"I suspect that if they ever find this place a few bits of art will be the least of my worries."

"You mean after what you've done…Oh, God…what have I done? I maced a detective, oh no, why did I do that?" Evey's eyes were wide with fear and disbelief, she put a hand to her mouth.

"You did what you thought was right."

"No, I shouldn't have done it, I must've been out of my mind!"

"Is that what you really think, or what they would have wanted you to think?" I ask. Evey had been staring off into space, no doubt imagining the trouble she'd gotten herself into for helping me. I watched her and caught the moment the thought crossed her mind that just by being here with me now, she could be in even worse trouble than before.

Her eyes were wide with fear as her mind returned to the conversation. She looked at me as if it was the three lusting Fingermen standing in my place. "I think I should go,"

"May I ask where?"

"Home, I have to go home,"

"You know they're looking for you, and if they know where you work then they certainly know where you live." I told her. The expression on her pretty faced turned to a desperate panic.

"I have friends, I can stay with them!"

Inwardly, I sighed. "I'm afraid that won't work either. I want you to understand, Evey, that I didn't want this for either of us, but I couldn't see any other way. You were hit, knocked unconscious, and I had to make the decision. If I'd left you at the Tower, you'd be in one of Creedy's interrogation cells right now. They'd imprison you, torture you, and, in all probability, kill you in pursuit of finding me.

"After what you did for me, I couldn't let that happen. I picked you up and carried you to the only place that I knew you'd be safe. Here. To my home."

Evey seemed to understand what I was telling her, but her desperation remained, and she began to beg. "Please, I won't tell anyone, I swear! You know you can trust me…"

"I'm sorry, but I can't take that risk."

And I was sorry- sorry that she'd become involved in my plans, sorry that she was so frightened and confused by all of this, sorry for knowing- just by looking at her- that she would tell everything to the first simple cadet that asked her what she knew if she was ever captured. I wasn't sorry, however, for how I felt about having someone to talk to. I often spoke to the statues and busts of the great geniuses of the past- Shakespeare, Einstein, Plato- butthey lack sufficient conversation skills.

It was refreshing tohave someone speak back to me- perhaps that was why I had been drawn to her last night. I don't believe in coincidences, there is no dice in life.

"But I don't even know where this is, we could be anywhere!"

I shook my head. "You know it's underground and you know the color of the stones, that would be enough for a smart man."

Her desperate panic was swiftly changing to anger. "What are you saying, that I have to stay here forever?"

"Only until I'm done, after the fifth I no longer think it will matter."

"The fifth? You mean I have to stay here for a year?"

The furious disgust in her voice hit me. I had thought that she might welcome the safety of my home, the chance to be surrounded by all of the art and music that she'd been so wrongfully denied; to dream of the books she'd read and the films she'd see, rather than go through nightmares of the Fingermen and their black bags should have seemed to her the most wonderful gift anyone could give…then why was she so upset with me?

"I'm sorry, Evey. I just didn't know what else to do." I said. The way she was looking at me…I almost felt as if I had done her some great injustice, rather than having just saved her life.

"You should have left me alone! Why didn't you just leave me alone?" She demanded, her voice raised, her face flushed in anger.

I didn't try to stop her as she turned to leave, there was no point. She wouldn't be able to leave the Gallery and if I were to go after her, she might become frightened. Better for both of us to have some time alone.

_"…don't try forcing a woman when she's angry, it'll only make things worse…wait until she cools off, give her time alone to relax, and remember: it never hurts to have a peace offering…"_

The words of my father from years ago drifted through my mind. At least, I think my father said something along those lines…it's been so long since I thought of him, or my old life for that matter. I don't remember his face or his name. I don't remember my name or my old face, although, I wouldn't call what I possess now a "new" face, because it's not a face at all!

Every once in a great while, a flash of memory will surface, usually brought on in a time when I am at a complete loss. This Evey situation certainly classifies. Not only have I allowed myself to reveal the secret of my home, but in keeping Evey here she will undoubtedly come to learn of my plans, perhaps even become involved- if she should be captured, what then?

The girl is a huge risk, but I cannot let her walk out of the Gallery, and right into Sutler's waiting hands. She would tell them everything, I can already picture it. Evey is a risk to my revenge, my vengeance on Sutler, on Creedy, Liliman, Surridge…

No, I won't let her get in the way- if I have to, I will show her just what it is I've been fighting so long for. With that thought, I leave the main foyer of the Gallery and move down the hall. The day is not over yet, but a huge steps have already been taken- the beginning of the end of this damn tyranny. I had fought Fingermen, blown up the Old Bailey, taken over Jordan Tower, fought and killed several members of the police force and in the process of all this, I've saved Evey twice, only to have her spurn me for it…I feel tense, and I can't understand her anger.

As I pass the room, I see that Evey's door is shut tight, but I can hear her inside, pacing and sobbing. I would have liked to go in and offer some words of comfort, but I suddenly felt a rush of anger at her tears. Ignoring her crying, I went on to my own bedroom.

Anger and Reason battled in my mind and ironically, I found myself pacing the same pattern as she.

_Let the little bitch cry all night! As if she's a true victim! To think, she could stay here in the Gallery for one year, reading books that she's never heard of, see films that were banned from the theaters, look upon art that was rescued from condemned museums…many people would give their life for such a respite from the tyranny that reigns supreme above our heads, and yet Evey is in the next room, crying her heart out, for what? She acts as if I stole her from a life worth living!_

Reason then stepped in for a few moments.

_She's just afraid and confused, but she acts as if it's I that set out for things to happen this way! I didn't want her involved in any of this, and now we must share my home for one year. We need to be able to cooperate in order for this to work- I need there to be some trust between us. Tomorrow, when she has had time to accept this, we can start anew…_

Anger returned.

_I saved her life twice in the past 24 hours, yet she behaves as though I have condemned her for a century. Foolish girl, no doubt she'd never set foot in one of the camps, never been used as someone's fucking lab rat…she doesn't know anything! To her, I am a madman, but she doesn't understand!_

I step into my room, and set a chair in front of the door to block entry from the hallway- what I was about to do, I didn't wish for Evey to see, just in case she decided to start exploring. I slipped off the gloves, and my boots followed a moment later. I removed the mask and wig, relishing the cool air in contact with my skin. I took a deep breath and then removed the tunic and trousers.

I undressed completely and stood before a lit mirror. No inch of skin was left invisible to me, I could see every last malformed scar. My skin is ravaged entirely. There is not a spot that was spared in the fire- I am walking scar tissue.

I look upon my naked body and think that for every scar I have, a hundred innocent people were killed in Larkhill. This is the reason I've spent so many years alone, going for days without food or sleep to gain one more piece of information that would lead me to the 5th of November.

There's only one more year to wait, and it will all finally be over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Evey**

It was so bizarre, but I actually felt safe living under V's care. This violent terrorist, who had blown up the Old Bailey, who had attacked the police and the Fingermen…he doted on me, in a way. He made me feel as if I was _someone_, rather than just _anyone_. Had he seduced me with his attentions? There is no point in denying the truth. I'd been seduced by him, but I never forgot, not even for a moment, what he was capable of.

In the first few days, I came to realize that V had lived for years in near total isolation; he was completely self-reliant. It was a requirement for his survival that no one should ever find his home, let alone come to know him or even glimpse him for more than a moment when he left for supplies.

Anyone would be lonely living that way- but V wasn't normal, was he? The only proof I had to confirm his humanity were those few moments when I caught sight of his hands. He'd been embarrassed, almost ashamed of his scars- I felt a terrible pang when he asked, in much too lighthearted a way, if he'd put me off my appetite. I had known him only a matter of hours by the time I'd seen his hands, but it hurt me that he thought of himself as being so disgusting.

I tried to reassure him, and I was surprised to find that I was as concerned about his feelings as I was about his body. I had been afraid of him, but he had saved me twice, never threatened me, and I couldn't help but feel a strong sense of compassion. When I asked after him, his only explanation was that there had been a fire some years ago.

V didn't explain the whole story, he never does. It was just one thing that I'd come to learn about him during my stay in his Gallery. V's conversation is a mix of quotes and the plain, though there was much less of the plain speech in the beginning; he'd thrown so many lines of Shakespeare at me that on the first day I'd given up on asking him anything serious.

This appeared to be his intent the entire time. He wanted to distract me with the art of his home rather than explain his true motives. It was impossible to put myself in his place and try to see the world as he did, but I felt that he must be glad for the simple pleasure of having someone to talk to. I never had to do more than glance at the title of a book or a portrait on the wall and V would draw me into deep conversation. Heknew everything of the contraband treasures stored in his home, and was very eager to share what he knew. I probably learned more from him than I did in school.

We shared every meal- or rather, V would sit at the other end of the table while I ate. He wouldn't be able to eat without removing the mask- if his hands shamed him, I couldn't imagine how horrible his face must be. Out of respect, I didn't mention it- I knew he wouldn't remove it if I asked him, and to arouse his anger was the last thing I wanted to do. Sometimes he would provide the conversation, other times he would simply sit quietly. When he was quiet, I felt uncomfortable- I didn't like being watched by that smiling mask.

When V was quiet, he would become very still, his masked face would tilt softly to one side, and I knew that he was far away. With his voice silent, his attention gone from the room and his body motionless…I felt as if I were at the table with a horrible mannequin.

Without V's voice to give life to the mask, I felt judged. The smiling mask was laughing, cruelly taunting me as I tried to eat, _"Eat it all, you fat cow, you pathetic_ _little mouse!"_

Bad memories from the past- in the juvenile center, and the foster homes where I'd been placed after my parents were…

I knew, without asking him, that I had been the only other person to ever see the Shadow Gallery. Perhaps I was the only one to ever know V. I feared what my knowledge of V would cost me- in time, would he come to see me as too much of a risk? What would he do to me?

The constant uncertainty was slowly driving me mad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: The conversation between V and Prothero was taken from the film novel, follows the Vendetta film.

**V **

She is sleeping again. Curled to one side, and breathing deep. I'm watching her once more, and I wonder how she would react if she knew I was here? It's an unspoken courtesy that this room, just this one room in the entire Gallery, is hers, and that her privacy is something to be respected. I do respect her, but something compels me to watch her as she sleeps- if only for a few minutes, every night that she has been here with me.

I left late last night, to fetch a few things for her. Food, for she is thin, and clothes, for she cannot return to her apartment. On the first night of our meeting, the strangest night of her life, as she called it; I worried about her. I didn't dare go inside, but I knew just from the look of the surrounding neighborhood that it was not a safe place for her to be. Judging from the looks of the area, Fingermen weren't the only things that prowled the night. I will not call that place her home, for this is her home now. She must stay with me, just until I'm finished…I don't know what will become of her after the fifth. Or me, for that matter.

She shifts in her sleep, curling tighter. Evey is beautiful, and beauty is an attribute I had once thought long gone from this world, and yet, here Beauty lies, sleeping before me. It's been over a week since the night I first brought her here, and we've spoken of many things. I steered her away from any mention of my past; in my mind, everything is still crystal-clear, and I have no interest in reliving the horror. Rather, I want to share my knowledge, discuss books and art. Disappointingly, from Evey's blank looks, I often have to remind myself that the girl has been deprived of most everything.

This government controls what its people know, and those in the seats of power had long ago decided that it would be safest for them if their people knew nothing.

Evey stirs again, more this time than before, and her blanket slips to the floor. I take this as a signal to get on; if I should wait any longer, she might wake up, and fear from me the worst intentions if she should find me in her bedroom. Briefly, I wonder if she'd ever encountered Fingermen before. The scene came to my mind's eye an instant after the thought- just the idea of Evey, younger and terrified, bleeding alone in a grimy alley after being taken by Fingermen…this is only part of the reason I am so completely dead-set on bringing an end to this tyranny.

Revenge, yes. Well-deserved, completely justified revenge. I will plan and kill and organize for my personal vendetta against this fascist tyranny- to avenge Valerie and the man I once was, and the countless other victims that dyed in Larkhill; and, to protect the people whose only true crimes were that they allowed fear to get the better of them. Evey Hammond is just one of so very many.

I settle the blanket over her, and then search her wallet for what I need.

An I.D. card; such a little thing, but one that would bring me a great deal of personal satisfaction. I will use Evey's identity and a special blend of poison to do away with the **Voice** **of London**. Lewis Prothero had often patrolled the medical block, where he and Dr. Stanton- now called Dr. Surridge- approved patients suitable for testing. He'd handpicked us out of a lineup, over two dozen of us- starved, injured and diseased…_if only I had more time…_

Prothero had made his fortune in cruelty, beating and raping the detainees in several different camps. In particular, I remember that his favorite pastime was to swing a police baton to the back of one's head, followed by harsh kicks to the ribs and stomach. I remember his polished jackboots and crisp, clean uniform. He's in the shower now, surrounded by his own moving image. The televisions are mounted on nearly every wall of his spacious apartment, not just in the bathroom.

He is reflected in every mirror, echoed off of every tile. I've been watching him for years; my only break from his surveillance had been these last few days I'd kept with Evey. Prothero hadn't broken his routine and it is now time for me to break him.

Evey's card slips through the sensors and allows me access to the top floor of the complex. I let myself into his apartment and have a look around. Prothero's showers are always long, usually half an hour at least. Men in his position can afford to waste water, not that it will do him any good. No matter how long Prothero scrubs, we both known the blood will never wash from his hands.

_Out, damn spot!_

He showers in time with his show, reciting his lines along with the television as he washes. No commercial breaks, just his continuous monologue echoing back to him. He does not love himself, he is truly _obsessed_. Looking over his luxurious suede sofas, his glass tabletops and the steel refrigerator stocked with food, I feel nauseated. My head starts to spin with disgust and the near-crippling anticipation of destroying the man. His home is a monument to himself; he is Narcissus incarnate, a sadistic monster.

I will kill him- nothing can stop me tonight. I'd dreamed of this to the point of hallucination, I've watched Prothero for years, waiting for the perfect time and that perfectmoment has finally come. The Old Bailey is destroyed; my message has been broadcasted- the government is acknowledging the very real threat I pose to their hold on this country. The more public my actions, the more and more the Sutler will come to rely on the media to distract the dissenting public.

_What will the people say when the Voice of London has fallen silent?_

Glancing at the clock, I see that Prothero's time is almost up.

He's in there now, and I feel my mouth and eyes begin to water at the sight of him. So well-fed, while we starved. Dressed in the finest of clothes while we froze in threadbare shifts. I don't see the Voice of London before me, I see Commander Lewis Prothero, just as he never saw me as a human being, but as just another animal strung up in the Funny Farm.

He goes on with the send-off, "England Prevails," and turns off the television. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the screen. "Holy Christ!" he yells, slipping on the tiles in his shock.

"Good evening, Commander Prothero,"

"Oh, my God! How did you get in here?" he demands. Evey's I.D. card is tucked safely in my pocket. I touch it through the material of my clothes as I watch him struggling on the floor, desperate for some way to escape or overpower me. Neither will occur. I watch his eyes slide over to the gilded cellular he'd dropped beside the drain. _Oh, yes, nothing but the best for the boss!_

He'd been speaking to Dascombe, another man of Sutler's. No worry there, the phone is wet, and hewill notlive long enough to dial. "Don't worry, I've made sure our reunion won't be disturbed by any late-night phone calls, Commander."

His eyes widen, and the fingers that had been clutching at the towel about his waist clench so tightly they adopt the same snowy shade as the terrycloth. "Stop that! Why do you keep calling me that?"

_Denial, is it?_

"That was your title, remember? When we first met, all those years ago. You wore a uniform in those days."

I see him as what he was, just as I know he's looking at me and seeing the creature that came forth from the fire. "_You_. It is you," he states, his voice wavering in terror. His confused, desperate horror has the effect of a powerful drug; I feel as if I can't get enough.

He attempts to back away from me as I nod and begin to move forward, "The ghost of Christmas past…"

He tries to fight me, tries to scramble away- it's almost too easy to be entirely satisfying. The poison barely reaches the back of his throat before it starts. The spasms of his pasty body, the bulging of his eyes…he's dead moments after vomiting up his own fetid stomach lining. It leads a garish trail, slowly seeping towards the shower drain- a horrendous combination of coagulating blood, vomit and what's left of the poison itself.

Smiling beneath the mask, I amuse myself with the thought that his last appearance on television could very well have him shown here as he is now: a bloated gray corpse, sprawled naked, leaking filth from his every orifice…

It will not happen, I know that his pathetic end will manage to twist into some heroic death, such as sacrificing himself to save a busload of schoolchildren, or some other nonsense.

There is no need to stay- Prothero is nothing to me. I make my escape just as I made my entrance, swift and to the point, with no one to witness my movements. I am a ghost, am I not? I leave Prothero's posh complex and begin the long walk back to the Gallery. I have no fear of being seen or much less, captured by Creedy or any agents from the Nose, but my steps are quicker than usual. Stopping for a moment in an alley, I realize with no surprise that I am hurrying.

Hurrying back to Evey.

I slip through the city streets, away from the safer, more carefully guarded complexes, past the more modest apartments, and continue on to the more derelict of districts. As I walk, I can't help but glance into windows as I pass. I see families sitting together, watching the telly. I see young children playing with colorful blocks or stuffed animal toys- too young to understand the dark world around them, then. Children are not able to understand, but their parents most certainly do, and I have overheard several mentions of my actions as I toured these last few city blocks.

_Madman, terrorist, freedom fighter, anarchist, lunatic, insanely brave…call me what you will, but I will always be V_.

In a plain brownstone townhouse, I glimpsed a couple making love in a downstairs bedroom- unlike the more innocent of scenes I'd spied on, I don't linger, but I see enough. The girl is facing the window the moment I happen by, her face lit by a few dim candles set on a nightstand. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, she never saw me. I watch her for but a moment, no longer than two seconds pass before I hasten back on my way.

But those few moments are enough that the girl's champagne curls and breathy moans invade my mind, and her flushed face is quickly replaced by Evey's. I cannot stop myself from taking on the role of her lover, who had been so swarmed by shadows as he was in the bedroom that I could not make out his face. The scene played before me is as erotic as it is foreign; I imagine Evey beneath me, writhing for me, yearning and yielding for my touch…

Clenching my fists, I shake the thought away, disgusted with myself for even conjuring the hateful idea of using her in such a way.

Upon entering, I find the Shadow Gallery just as I'd left it- silent, deathly still. The air is stale, and the only sound is the rustling of my cloak as I remove it and head further inside. I see Evey's door remains half-open.

I look inside to make sure that the blanket has not, once again, slipped from her body. The sexual image I'd conjured is whisked from my mind as I look in on her. Evey is beautiful, and has been hurt by this world. I know now that there is no way that I will be able to keep her here, cosseted away from the world. She is not one of my paintings or a priceless book.

The time will soon come when I will be forced to use Evey as a pawn to achieve my ultimate goal, and all I can do is hope that she will understand what I will ask of her, even if she will not be able to forgive me for it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews, I appreciate them all- I'm going to go through the film with this story but I do not know if I will make this an AU with a twist at the end, so as for what to expect, don't look at me! I hardly know myself, but I've answered a few of your questions at the very end.

**Evey **

I woke up, terrified with what I might find. I recognized his voice easily enough- the same voice that has been echoing in my dreams for the past several nights. I heard him fighting, but laughing as well. I got out of bed and steeled myself for the sight of bloodshed and gore- if Fingermen had found this place, I had no doubt in my mind that it would not be just one man killed in the Shadow Gallery.

The thought of V's death seemed impossible- I'd seen him fight before, no one can touch him; but at the time, my fear had overridden my logic. I peered around the corner, my heart pounding with fear and sorrow for what I might find. I had expected to see V fighting a dozen or more Fingermen from all the noise he was making- what I found instead was a strange sight, to say the least.

V was laughing and taunting his enemy, an old suit of armor. He lunged at it with a thin rapier sword, fencing and slashing. I couldn't believe my eyes, but V was _playing!_ He taunted the armored helmet and the more I watched him, the more it seemed that V really was insane. V lifted the suit's hand to his throat and his voice struggled, as if he were being choked- he thrust himself backward onto the chaise lounge he'd pushed to the side, kicked at the air and then leapt back to the armor. V twisted, swung the sword and the helmet went flying.

It clanged when it impacted the floor, and rolled to my feet. V saw me and his hands instantly went to readjust his mask. He lowered his head and both his words and body language spoke volumes of his embarrassment. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you."

He must've known that it was all the noise he was making that had woken me, but it is his home and I wasn't about to be an ungrateful houseguest by complaining about his behavior. Even if everything he does _is_ of the completely lunatic...

"No, I just thought you were fighting, I mean for _real_…" I clarified.

V straightened his posture then, his confidence seemed to return in an instant. I had noticed the television, but I hadn't been paying any attention to the program. He pointed to the black and white images with his sword. "It's my favorite film, the _Count of Monte_ _Cristo_, with Robert Donat as Edmond Dantes. It gets me every time."

I couldn't understand how a man as unique and bewildering as V could become so caught up in a film- it was usually children thatgot so caught up with Storm Saxon, and every once in a great while I would see them play-acting outside during the day. V was a grown man, and something of a genius besides. Couldan oldfilm really be so moving?

"I've never seen it."

The smiling mask tilted to the side, and V was back to his charming self once more. "Really? Would you like to?"

I tilted my head at him as he so often did at me. "Does it have a happy ending?"

The smile of his mask seemed real, somehow. "As only celluloid can deliver," he said, and made a sweeping gesture with his arm, indicating the loveseat before the television.

"Okay, but put the sword away," I said. If he became caught up in the film so easily, I didn't want any weapon close at hand- I didn't want him to get carried away again. My feelings toward V were still undecided. The man constantly wore a mask, and lived deep underground, surrounded by treasures of the past. He was dangerous; I'd witnessed it firsthand.

I wasn't sure if I could trust his words- would he truly set me free after the fifth of next November? Nothing was certain, and after what he's done, I had no idea what the next months will bring- either V's dream will be realized, or we'll both be found out and black-bagged…I was terrified by either outcome.

I followed V to the sofa and sat down while he reset the DVD. It had been so long since I'd had a friend to sit with and enjoy a movie- I tried hard to forget who he was, and just let the film engage my mind for a couple of hours.

_"Find your own tree,"_

"Find your own tree,"

V had chimed in throughout the film, matching the lines word for word and laughing to himself throughas the end credits began to roll. It was endearing to know that beneath the mask there was a soul, a playful, intelligent soul, who loved music, and Shakespeare and beauty…

It had been a wonderful time, and I admit that during the film I had let myfear of himslip away- V was no longer _V the terrorist_, _V the rhyming lunatic_, _V the brutal fighter_…he was just V, a comforting friend, offering things that I hadn't experienced since my childhood had been cut short: warmth…a feeling of safety when I slept…an interest in what I had to say…

And then, like all things, it ended. Not with a wrong word or an awkward touch, but by a news report from BTN, of all sources. Lewis Prothero had died- or at least, that was the story Jane was reporting. Something about a heart attack at the office- Jane always blinked too much when she was forced to vomit up lies like those; I'd always wondered if she did it on purpose, as a way to indicate anyone watching that she was lying through her teeth.

If I had noticed, surely someone else would, wouldn't they?

Poor Jane- she had resigned herself to being little more than a mouthpiece for Sutler and Creedy several years ago…but who was I to judge? I was just another sheep in the flock at the time, led astray from the chopping block by a mysterious masked Shepard…

And then, even as I told V how I knew the story must have been far from the truth, things began to come together. I'd been arranging things in my room the day before- thekhakis that I'd arrived in had had my wallet in the back pocket. I hadn't had any real reason to go through it, what was the point of a credit card, my few leftover food coupons or my I.D. when I was to be kept underground for the next year?

But then, I couldn't find my I.D. I had always kept it on me; with the random building sweeps of BTN, led by the Finger, it was always smart to have your I.D. with you to avoid any problems. I'd always kept it in the same place, just behind the credit card…_the wallet was new, it couldn't have just fallen out…_

I'd set my wallet on the little end table beside my bed, completely puzzled as to where it could have gone, but at the same time not terribly concerned. After all, it wasn't as if I had a position at BTN to worry about anymore. And then, miraculously, the I.D. card returned to it's original slot in my wallet. At the time, I'd been simply puzzled.

But then, a terrible coldness washed over me as I turned to V. He was sitting on the sofa, his body very still. The laughter was gone now, the silence of his home crept in on the two of us as he clicked off the remote. The mask told me nothing, but he had tilted his head just so, in a small piece of his body language that I had come to understand meant that he was curious about my reaction to what I'd just learned.

He often gave just the slightest tilt to his head when he told mesome interesting, yet totally random and useless fact aboutany number of a great manydead artists that he loved. He wanted to know what I thought, and in that moment I thought that I'd been staying alone too long with a monster.

"Would you prefer the truth or a lie?"

_Lie to me V, please lie and tell me you did not just murder Lewis Prothero!_

V denied nothing, only stating that there were "no courts in London" for men like Lewis Prothero. _My God, V, what have you done?_ What crime could have merited a man's death? V was not forthcoming with any information about why he had murdered, instead he tried to change the subject to justify himself.

"I might've killed the three Fingermen that attacked you, but I didn't hear any objection then,"

_Oh, V, it's not the same! What did Lewis Prothero ever do to you, or to anyone else? He just has a television program, why have you killed him?_

I couldn't help but allow the question to slip out, "Are you going to kill me, too?"

What would he tell me? Another tricky lie, or would he issue forth another simple "yes" as a response?

V rose to his feet in one swift movement and took a step forward, his arms reaching out to me. "Of course not, Evey,"

I took a step back from him, and V stilled his movement, dropping his hands. Fear, horror and a terrible, sick feeling were rising in my chest. _I am living with a murderer!_

I quickly turned away from him and bolted for my room. V could have stopped me if he wanted to, with one of his knives, or he could have just grabbed me- but he didn't. He simply watched me as I left him standing there before the blank screen of his television, where we had bonded in so simple a way, even if only for a few hours.

_"He cares more about revenge than he does about her,"_

That's what I'd said about the film character, Edmond Dantes, and the same is true for V. He cared enough to bring me back to his home, but was he motivated by a true caring, or did he just want to make sure I wouldn't be around to give Creedy any hints on how to find him? He's intent on bringing down the government, consumed with a determination that I've never seen in anyone before- he reminded me of my parents, desperate as they were for the people around us to open their eyes to the government's lies; the only difference is that V will not wait, he will force the High Chancellor out of power.

Is this how he sees things? People standing in his way are to be killed? Cut down like an overly long blade of grass? How could I trust someone so heartless, so cold and methodical? V was a killer, something he'd never boasted about, yet never denied…

I couldn't stay with him much longer, I couldn't stand by and allow him to go out each night while I was sleeping and use my identity to kill more people. The eccentric friend I'd come to know, so charming that I'd almost forgotten his violence, had left me. In his place stood the indifferent man I'd left standing in the alcove with a television that had once played his favorite film.

I had to make him stop- I had to make the killing stop…I racked my brain for over an hour, trying to figure out how to stop him without getting myself caught in the process. It then came to me, sneaking and slithering, as allterrible ideas do, in the form of a deception.

I would have to lie to V by telling him the truth- _my truth_.

I would have to convinceV that I wished to help, while in fact I would try to help myself. The terrible feeling welled up once more, and I felt bile rise in the back of my throat- V wouldn't forgive a betrayal, especially after I'd convinced him how much I believed in what he was doing. He'd leave me only two options: he would kill me himself, or he would leave me to the black bag…

As the idea formed in my mind, I felt that for either staying silent while he killed, or for betraying his trust, I would deserve either fate.

Devil Red- I think the Doctor said that V had no eyes, probably because she couldn't see them (neither could the audience, come to think about it), but I was thinking about this the other day and if we are to assume that V has a way to heal himself after all the chemicals he'd been injected with at Larkhill, then maybe his eyes grew back? It doesn't seem likely, so I'll just assume that the Doctor was terrified and could sort of "feel" his eyes on her.

_Girl with the Cauldron Spir_- No, V's dirty thoughts weren't in the book or film, but I wrote that in to illustrate that V is still a man, and though his thoughts were fleeting, he sees more in Evey than just his houseguest...more on that later ;-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**- I have a few comments for _BanishedOne_ and _Girl With The Cauldron_ _Spir_ at the end of this chapter- nothing mean, I promise!

**V **

"_Are you going to kill me too?"_

Evey, Evey, Evey, you irrational, assuming child. Why would I kill you? You are nothing to me, your actions- no matter what you do- will have no impact on my intentions to destroy the tyranny that has held this country for so many years. No matter what you do, no matter what you say or think of me, more people will die. I will execute without hesitation, discrimination or mercy, as I have been doing for the past decade.

If I had had my way, I would have switched off the television, but you wanted to see the news report- no matter how false the circumstances- and I refuse to act a the censor, especially in the Shadow Gallery, becaus here you will find only truth. What you wish to see, I will not stop you…the exception of my face is immaterial.

I am a man, a man without a past- my life had been destroyed in Larkhill, and with it, much of my humanity. I am a man, but over the years of my imprisonment I became more and more of a beast. I use that term, not in a way of self-pity, but in it's most simple of descriptions. I lost my name, my family and friends, all traces of what becomes a man- except for my hate. Hate had consumed me for years, filling my every breath, contaminating me in a way that Delia Surridge could only dream of.

The beatings, the abuse, the deaths…it went on for years. I'd seen the guards share women, I'd seen them take turns shocking my fellow prisoners with a cattle prod; I'd seen men beaten to death for the crime of attempting to protect their children…hate overcame my fear and anger- _it ate me alive. _

Hate eventually combined with the poisons of the medical block, swarming over me, taking control. I believed that I was lost to the world, that I would die from the poison and cold hatred flowing through me, that I was no longer a man, but just a human shell containing little more than the toxins that I'd been injected withand the fury of my own making.

I'd lost my will to carry on. If there was nothing to look forward to, no reason tolove, nothing to hope for, thenthere was nothing left for me on this earth…or so I'd believed.

I was lying on the floor, curled into the fetal position, and waiting for Death to knock on my cell door. I could not see, I could not feel- I was deaf, blind and numb to the world…and then it happened, something so simple- I received a letter.

It wasfirst contact with someone other than the guards and medical staff; the guards who took such pleasure in our pain, the doctors that infected our bodies.

The letter itself is brief, written with a shaky hand on a flimsy slip of paper…that letter, that last, desperate message of love and hope had moved me so deeply, more than words can say.

The last testament of Valerie Page had given me all that I needed- _a reason to live._

I have nearly no memory of my former self, but I do remember that while I'd been caged in the medical block, I began to see the world in a new way. I'd become detached from the guards, the doctors, even the other prisoners…I no longer felt as if I were a part of human life, rather, I felt that I was on the outside looking in. As memories of a past life that may have been wonderful, full of laughter and love, began to fade away, strange thoughts began to emerge from my disturbed, intoxicated mind.

I began to absorb everything around me- the faces, the voices, the odd bits of conversation…my mind, stripped of it's past, had been reduced to the openness of a child's. I took in everything around me, and I saw my way out in Dr. Surridge. I'd observed the way she lit up when it was our time to spend together during the day- she looked forward to seeing me, and because of the simple truth that I was able to fascinate her to the point of distraction, I knew that I could twist her to my advantage.

_Manipulate her, use her…_

My vendetta is no simple, petty want for payback- in killing those responsible for Larkhill, I will be setting the world to right. In less than one year, it will all be over. The last few will be dead- Liliman, Surridge, Creedy, Sutler…and however many more people stand between them and I.

There is no anger, no burning hate left within me- what I feel now is the cool, simple certainty of destiny. I will avenge myself and the others who died in Larkhill. I will free the public from Sutler's hold. I will do everything it takes to accomplish this grand task.

This vendetta has become my purpose in life.

Evey doesn't understand why I've killed Prothero, and I am not going to tell her now. If she had been less eager to jump to the assumption that I would kill her with such carefree abandon, if she had given me the opportunity to explain, rather than turning away, I would have told her. Not everything, of course- I'd sooner die than have that slip of a girl pity my past sufferings. If I had the power to remove the sight of my hands from her memory, I would do so.

I won't tell her anything now- she had a chance to hear me out, but instead she chose to assume that I have the worst of intentions toward her. After all that has happened, she still trusts the tyrannical system more than I. It is impossible to pretend that this does not hurt me.

_Foolish girl_.

Evey had stepped back when I reached out to her, and bolted to her bedroom without a glance back to me. I could have stopped her, but I recalled, once again, someone's advice to me from years ago; I left her alone to calm down.

She has been in her room for over a week- I don't believe that she is starving herself, for I have noticed food missing from the kitchen. I assume that she eats when I am in another area of the Gallery, or while I am aboveground keeping tabs on my next target. Speaking of which…interesting developments have occurred; the opportunity to do away with that perverted priest, Father Liliman, will present itself very soon.

It seems our Father Liliman likes to take an indulgence whenever he can. Soon, he will be leaving for Perth, and even sooner, a girl of barely thirteen will be placed with him in a large, decadentbedroom of Westminster Abbey- the poor girl will be nowhere near ready, and anything but willing. Not that it matters; this is the way he _likes_ them, you understand.

_Sick bastard_- I may enjoy this more than when I do away with Sutler and Creedy.

Liliman, by habit, will not have his fun until the day of his departure from the country- he is afraid of heights, and from what I understand, raping a young girl is the only way to relieve such tension before the long flight south.

_I have seen him with the children in Larkhill..._

Irony is a beautiful thing- I have created a special Communion tablet for Liliman. The moment it dissolves on his tongue, he will meet the Lord that he has served so faithfully these many years. With all my heart, I believethis to be a long overdue reunion.

A door openssomewhere down the corridor; Evey has emerged from her bedroom. Finally, she has come back to me. I make no move to greet her, and she frowns as she moves closer. Is she still displeased? Her stepstoward the loungeslow, and she approaches more carefully. I watch her movements, and it occurs to me that because I have not moved or spoken, Evey might believe me to be sleeping. Often, I forget I wear a mask, and that Evey has only ever seen smiling Guy Fawkes, but never my true face.

I want her to be the first to speak, so I move just enough so that it is obvious I am alert to her presence in the room with me. One nod of the head, and she falters, just for a moment, but quickly regains herself.

"Hi, I've been thinking, and I want to ask you something, but I don't think you'll understand why until you know a few things about me…"

She moves closer and, sitting down beside me on the chaise lounge, Evey went on to tell me her story- the death of her brother, the passion for politics her parents shared, the terror of the black bags…so many events have factored into the development of the timid young woman before me.

Poor Evey has a faraway look in her eyes as she tells me about her life. Her curls shimmer in the dim Gallery lighting, the burgundy dress I've provided brings flattering warmth to her skin. Evey's lips and cheeks share the same soft, girlish shade of rose without the aid of cosmetics. She is a beauty- her loveliness is bewildering, frightening and foreign.

I am drawn to her- I can feel her anger and defiance, it roils just beneath her well-mannered surface. In Evey Hammond, I sense a kindred spirit; it's strange, butI feel thatI have longed for her before we'd even met, that I've been waitingover a decade for her to join me.

She has alreadyproven that she has aspark within, that day when she stepped in to help me at Jordan Tower.Perhaps it was the overature from the night beforethat had woken up something inside of her, something that said, "Don't let them trod over you! Let them know you're here, make them listen, make them understand!"

Music has that effect- it canawaken something we once thought had been beaten into permanent submission. No wonder that the government has black-listed everything, save fortheir own military march anthems, the constant chanting of "England Prevails!"

_I love you, Evey, and I am sorry..._

"…which is why I wanted to ask if there's anything I can do to help make it right, please, let me know."

The nymph before me finishes her story with the soft plea that I let her help in some small way. Her eyes are wide and warm; they shine with tears that, if things were different, I would offer her the comfort of my hands lifting to caress her cheek. I might take her in my arms and bring her closer, perhaps hold her against me, perhaps even run an ever-gloved hand through her honey curls…

But I do nothing.

I do nothing because I can see the lie in her eyes. Evey may have wowed the crowd as a child in a school production of _Twelfth Night_, but she is no actress now, and this is no play. She is lying right to me and I can see it plain as day that the only one Evey is concerned about helping is herself.

Eveydeclared that she wanted to help me change the world…I wish that I could believe her…

**BanishedOne-** You are spot on in the comments you made about V cursing; he was angered by Evey and let's not forget what a stressful day he'd had at that point! Considering that technically, V was just thinking and not speaking, I hadn't thought that a little cursing was beyond the realm of possibility- if I'd gone through everything that he had, I'd be cursing up a storm! As for the sexual thoughts- he's a man, and they were nothing more than fleeting thoughts- we all have those. As V proves, even a priest is not beyond that base human urge; at least V has the decency not to act on his impulses!

**Girl With The Cauldron Spir**- You're a real sweetie, thank you! Since you haven't read the novel yet, I should tell you that the part where Evey asks if V will kill her is in the book (ch. 8, pg. 131)- she asks the question, V says that of course he won't kill her, he stands up and reaches to her, Evey says, "No, don't," backs away from him and then goes back to her room…I'm still mad that they didn't leave that part in the film, but I'll wait for the DVD, maybe it'll be on a deleted scene- I hope so! And all of the love/sex stuff between them, don't worry, I know good and well how far I can go with this so there won't be any smut, but there will be _something_…


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: Okay, here we go! I like writing V's perspective much more than Evey's, but I thought that this chapter most definitely needed a woman's touch! Thank you for all of your reviews, I love them, you're wonderful! Warning, this chapter gets a little, ah…_intense_ toward the end, so skip it if that makes you nervous!

**Evey **

I had told V the one story that I promised no one else would ever know- the story of how my family had been torn apart, first by my brother's sickness and then by the black bags that stole my parents. V had not tried to coax me out of my room in all of the days that I'd spent away from him. I admit that it had been difficult to spend so many long hours alone- even when I'd gone to the kitchen for a bit of food, I hadn't seen him anywhere in the Gallery. I had wanted to see him, I admit it now, I'd wanted to see him in the hopes that he would explain himself.

_Why was he after the government? Why had he killed Lewis Prothero?_

In the message he'd forced to be broadcast on BTN, V had went on and on about how Sutler's government had suppressed the public. Nothing he'd said had been untrue- but why resort to cold-blooded murder and terrorism in order to get his way? The answer was as unclear as ever, and after the way I'd lashed out at him, V had refused any explanations.

I'd told him of my life and all that had happened since. I begged him to let me help. The silence had hung in the air once I'd finished- it was unlike V to be so quiet, so pensive. I had tried to seem as sincere as I could, so long as he would trust that I believed in his insane scheme to overthrow the government.

Lying to him made me feel dirty, as dirty as the whore V wanted me to portray.

The mask had stared back at me for several long moments once I'd finished telling him exactly what he wanted to hear- the ticking of every clock in the Gallery seemed to echo in the silence as he watched me, almost as if waiting for me to make the wrong move that would prove fatal. At length he only said, "If you wish…"

What I wished for was that things went back to what passed as normal after our talk, but they didn't. V continued to disappear for hours at a time without a word, and when he would reappear, almost out of thin air, he never mentioned where he had gone or what he had done. We still spoke during meals and throughout the day, but V no longer bothered with explaining his paintings or plays- after the _Count of Monte_ _Cristo_, V didn't invite me to see any of his other films.

My friend V had gone away, leaving behind the indifferent, nonchalant man I'd first met…he was almost cold, and I'd never missed him as much as when he'd withdrawn from me.

It was a few days after our talk when V took me up on my offer to help him. I had been tidying up my room- even after all the time I'd spent there, I hadn't really explored the treasures that it held. I had read a few of the books that were piled all about the space, but I hadn't taken much interest in anything else.

Covered in several years worth of dust, I found a mirror. It was a beautiful silver threefold stand, engraved with the Latin phrase _Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici_. So caught up I had been in my little chore, I hadn't heard V slip into my room. I started when the mask appeared beside me in the reflection. I turned around to see what it was he needed.

"It appears that unforeseen circumstances have accelerated my original plan. As a result I am in need of someone with some theatrical skill."

His words slipped over me, and for a moment I'd forgotten my own plan of escape. With his voice alone, V was compelling me to go along with him, to be by his side for whatever adventure he had in mind. But the moment quickly passed, and I was reminded of my own need to deceive him- I had to put an end to his murders, not help him.

"I'll do my best," I assured him as I set the rag aside and stood to follow him out of the room.

V nodded and stepped out into the corridor, "I believe you will."

There was a strange tone to his voice at that last comment, but I didn't think anything of it as I followed him into the hall, and he lead me closer toward the dead end. V lifted his hand and pressed softly against the stone- I tried to hide my surprise as the wall separated down the middle, the two halves swinging in like a set of simple double doors. V turned back to look at me, and the mask's smile seemed for a moment to appreciate that he'd found yet another thing to amaze me with.

V turned forward and strode into a wonderful anteroom.

It was a part of his home I'd never known existed, let alone seen before; it was just as beautiful as all the rest of his Gallery. Books were piled all along the walls and in every corner of the anteroom, though I noticed that there was at least some recognizable order to them, rather than the way he'd stored them in my own room.

Looking through into the main room, I could see landscape paintings in gilded frames covering every inch of the far wall, from top to bottom. As he lead me out of the anteroom, I found that the floor was not stone as it was in the corridor; V had placed several carpets over the stone, all of different colors and patterns, they overlapped each other in several places to cover the breadth of the large room.

Resting just between the anteroom and the main room was a tall polished table of dark mahogany; the only thing set atop it was a crystal vase, bursting with roses. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw them- I'd been underground so long that I'd forgotten all about flowers and the sun. The crimson blooms were gorgeous, and just as I reached out to lift one, V placed his hand over mine.

He had suddenly come to stand at my side, very close. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, and a strange shiver went down my back. The mask was inscrutable as always, but V tilted his head softly to the side and moved closer to whisper in my ear, "Have caution, Evey. Some of the most beautiful things in this world hold the greatest deceit."

The long fingers around my wrist tensed slightly; for a moment I had the terrible feeling that he knew my secret hope to escape, and I shivered for a different reason altogether. V didn't release my hand, but he did draw back and lead me further into the hidden room. Just as with the rest of the Gallery, the room was beautiful, even if cluttered and completely mismatched.

I'd been expecting the books and paintings, the various porcelain busts and old Hollywood posters, but the thing that I had not been expecting was the most prominent piece of furniture in the room.

A bed.

Turning, I noticed the alcove to the side, where there was a theater dressing table and a coat rack, from which hung V's cloak and his wide-brimmed fedora hat. There was a wig stand on the vanity counter, surrounded by several spare leather gloves.

My eyes were wandering over the wonderful space, so full of collections from the past. The portraits and landscapes, the statuettes, the dressing table, the roses…too late I realized where I was, where V had brought me.

This was V's room, and that was V's bed.

My eyes were drawn to his bed, entranced. This was V's most personal space in the entire Gallery, it was where he was at his most vulnerable, it was where he felt comfortable enough to remove the mask and sleep…

_This was where V slept…_

I was suddenly very aware of V as a man- he was not the mask, not the shadow…he was a man with spirit and feeling, dreams and little doubt. V was a man who breathed and read, ate and slept…_alone_. I wondered if perhaps, V had ever had any friends, or if he really was crazy, deemed too dangerous for the rest of the world, and banished from London, only to have built his grand house right under the noses of those who'd scorned him.

I wondered if he ever felt lonely, and the answer was entirely obvious. For all of the treasure that V had surrounded himself with, there was no one else here to enjoy it.

Except me, but for how much longer?

I turned to the man standing at my side, whose dangerous hand was still twined around my own. His hands were large, his tapered fingers long and very warm. While I had been unable to stop myself from staring, transfixed with the simple sight of his bed, V released his hold and moved to the other side of his room. The soft footfalls of his boots took him to a large wooden chest, a beautiful piece of carved Asian craftsmanship. I watched as he kneeled down and flipped open the latch.

"V, what are you doing?" I asked.

He opened the lid of the chest, and turned to look up at me. "I thought I'd been clear in my need for a true thespian. I need you to call upon your acting talents tonight, Evey, and what is an actress without her costume?"

V stood and turned to face me in one fluid movement, a hideous getup in his hands. I couldn't speak as he presented me with the ridiculous outfit- a garish full skirt, a floral blouse with ruffled cap sleeves, a matching pair of pink Mary Jane slippers and white knee-high stockings. I could barely hide my disgust as he handed it over to me.

"I know that this is not something that you would choose for yourself, but the costume is necessary for the performance. Please, try it on." The strange tone was back in his voice, and his words left me no room to protest.

_Just go along with it_, I reasoned, _this could be the only chance to get away, to find someone that can help stop V from killing more people…if I argue, V won't trust me enough to let me out of his Gallery, his beautiful prison…_

I took the costume from him, my cheeks and neck suddenly on fire when I saw the white lace thong included with the sick getup.

"I will step out into the hall and wait while you change. No worries, Evey, I promise not to peek." As V did as he said he would, I realized that the thought never crossed my mind that he might be tempted to.

He stepped past me and closed the doors behind himself, leaving me with no choice but to change into the crazy costume that he'd provided. I changed into it quickly, feeling entirely too exposed in the skirt and too-tight blouse. V had a hinged mirror in the corner- unlike the one I'd found in my room, his mirror had not a spec of dust on its glassy surface.

Checking my reflection, I thought I looked like a cross between a kewpie doll and a cheap prostitute. I called out to let V know that I was decent. He stepped into the room and paused once he saw me. I moved back a little, uselessly trying to hide behind one of his bedposts- I knew that it'd be pointless as he would want to see me in full to gage how he could use me in whatever plot he had arranged for tonight.

He stepped closer, and closer, until he finally stopped and offered his hand. I took it and he drew me away from his bed, leading me out of the shadow. He took a step back and tilted his head to one side, then the other. Gooseflesh has risen due to his intense scrutiny, and the draft on my overexposed body.

I didn't know what to say, and V wasn't offering any words of reassurance, comfort or critique. He moved forward, circling me like a strange black shark. He circled once, twice, and then stopped in front of me. I watched as his frozen smiling face traveled up and down my body- suddenly, he reached out to touch me.

His fingertips slid up my arms, starting at my wrists, up and up, leaving me trying to suppress the bolt of strange arousal I felt from his gentle hands. The hands, those powerful, dangerous hands slid up my arms, until his fingers curled around to cup my shoulders. He quickly turned me around so that he stood just behind me- I could feel the heat from his body; I could hear his soft breathing, even behind the mask.

He turned so both so that we stood before his mirror- I don't know why I'd suddenly become so hot, but I couldn't hide my reaction to what he was doing to me. My face was flushed in the mirror; we could both see it crystal-clear. It was strange, but I had thought that we made something of an erotic picture, despite the only touching was V's hands cupping my shoulders. Both bizarre and alluring, the two of us, together.

We stood there, silent for several long minutes, but I felt that I had to break it. "V, what are you asking me to do?"

His masked face jerked slightly, and I knew that I had brought him out of some memory, or perhaps a stirring daydream. The hands on my shoulders clenched briefly and he leaned down to speak softly into my ear. "You said that you wanted to help me, Evey, and I've discovered a way that you can. There is a man with very special tastes, he prefers something of a paradox in the girls that share his bed," I couldn't stop myself, I shivered under his hands at the sound and nearness of his voice. He turned me to face him, though his hands didn't leave my body.

"His name is Peter Liliman. As I said, the man prefers something of the paradoxal. I need you for this; on the outside you must portray an innocent beauty, belying the deceit just beneath the surface." He paused then, and brought the smiling masked lips to my ear- I half expected him to kiss my temple, the odd way V was behaving. "I trust this will be no great stretch for you."

Something was going on- was V tempting me, or had he seen right through my scheme to try to escape? I felt paranoid and afraid and charged all at once. Looking into the mask's eyes told me nothing, and that was only one of the many great advantages he had over me. Strength and physical prowess aside, V could overpower me with his voice.

"I- I…"

I couldn't speak- I didn't know whether or not V knew and was just toying with me, waiting until I confessed, or if his strange behavior was genuine- and if so, then I was in more serious trouble than if he'd realized my plans of betraying him.

"Ah ,yes, my ingénue needs to rehearse the scene, doesn't she? After all, what is an actress in costume if there is no script? Well, Evey, as you are already in character, I suppose that I ought to step in for our dear Peter Liliman. Shall we?"

His voice had changed again, he sounded suddenly excited.

He released my shoulders and took a step back. "Remember to stay in character, Evey. I'll walk you through the scene, but you must pay very close attention. Your curtain call is in just a few hours. Now, I will act as Liliman, and you must remain in your part."

I nodded dumbly at what he was trying to tell me, and he took my hand again. A powerful bolt of terror shot through me once I saw that V was leading me to sit beside him on his bed. He sat down first, and patted the place where he'd like me to sit. I sat down and crossed my legs- the skirt really was quite short.

"Now, now, Evey, you mustn't be bashful around Peter Liliman- he simply won't have it. _Uncross your legs_." He ordered. I was so shocked by what he demanded of me that I didn't react quickly enough for V's satisfaction.

He reached over, his gloved hand on my knees, and uncrossed them for me, forcing my legs apart. One of his hands remained on my leg. My breathing was suddenly the most difficult thing in the world; I know that V felt my body trembling under his hands.

"He may try to use compliments meant to distract you, all the while seducing your body…"

The hand remaining on my knee began to circle my kneecap, sending a spiraling rush up my body. It was arousing, erotic, and comforting. V's touch and presence was hypnotic- all along, since the first night he'd saved me, I had thought myself insane for the perverse attraction I'd felt toward him from the very beginning. It was a girl's fantasy, something out of a Gothic romance novel.

The masked man, armed only with a cloak and dagger emerges from the shadows to defend a poor maiden from lusting, hulking thugs. He'd dispatched with them easily, without a sign of effort; he'd shown me amazing, terrifying things on a rooftop and he'd made the sky burn with flying colors. He'd walked me home without a word demanding any sort of repayment; the final things he'd said had been, "Goodnight Evey, and please, stay safe."

He'd brought me down into his home of treasures, opened up a world of beauty and magic- and all the while, he was as dangerous as he was alluring. He touched me again, this time his other hand reached to the back of my neck, snaking through my hair to caress my nape. I felt my eyes flutter closed at the familiar sensations of being seduced- it was the strangest thing, to be so aroused by a man in a mask.

My eyes slid shut, and I felt myself slip further and further into this strange sexual game of his. My logic lulled into pure sensation as he kneaded the tension from my neck and shoulder, so much that it barely registered when his hand moved farther up my leg. I heard and felt the mattress shift under his weight as he moved closer, his voice low and sibilant, intoxicating and commanding. He'd lulled me into a trance, hypnotizing me…

"Do you know how beautiful you are? You know it, I'm sure you do," he whispered raggedly against my ear.

The hand at my neck moved farther up to run through my hair, stroking surely, slowly. I couldn't stop myself from slipping into his game. He wanted me to play the role, what choice did I have but to obey? His voice made me forget my true motive of escape, made me forget about this Peter Liliman, about Norsefire, about everything…

His voice was coaxing, compelling…the hand on my knee began to move up my leg, slowly, slowly…

He asked the question again and again, his voice becoming both softer and yet more demanding each time. The hand that had been stroking my neck and my hair moved forward and down, until his long fingers were splayed just between my breasts. Why was he doing this? What was he trying to accomplish?

I was completely in his grasp, and it took V just the slightest effort to push me onto my back. The comforter was smooth and cool beneath me; V's hand had slipped under the garish skirt, the long fingers were resting just on my hip. Heat spread over my entire body, sapping the strength from my will. Even as V touched me, feeding the fire that spread through my blood, I knew that I could not give in.

_I could not tell him, I could not tell him…I'm so sorry, V, but I can't stand by and let you kill anymore!_

"I cannot anticipate how he will react to you, Evey. If he is as pleased by you as I, then he will be gentle, soft and patient..." I felt V's fingers toy with the strap of the lace thong; just barely brushing the skin. I was close to begging, but I didn't care anymore- I was resolved to betray that madman, but at that moment, I wanted him to make me forget the horrible thing that I would soon have no choice but to do.

My mind was drowning in his voice and touch…

"But you are not the girl he is expecting, he may find you too mature for his twisted tastes. By the time you meet with him, it will be too late to dismiss you and find another girl- this will not please him, and when Peter Liliman is not pleased…"

V moved so quickly that once I'd opened my eyes, hehad alreadystraddled me, his body pressing me into the bed. Where a moment ago I would have welcomed his weight above me, I was terrified. He'd pounced me, pinned me, and one of his hands was wrapped around my throat, drawing tighter and tighter…

"Liliman will not appreciate your stubbornness, Evey. He, like any man, enjoys the struggle; the battle of wills- but it is your submission that he relishes most. Whether by simple seduction or by complete force, it will be the look of defeat, the spark fading from your eyes that will give him the greatest satisfaction."

I raised my arms and grabbed at V's wrist, but I knew it was useless- he'd fought off Fingermen and the police, there was no way in Hell that he'd even register the weak flailing of a girl pinned beneath him. "If he is not pleased, he will take you by force. I've seen him do it to countless others half your age. Have you ever been raped, Evey? No? You are wrong! You and I, everyone at Larkhill and London have all been stripped down and raped of our freedom, every day since Sutler came into power! And why? Because we were _weak_, too weak to see the danger we'd invited in once fear took control of our lives."

V's hold had been tight around my throat, but I was still able to breath. I could have said something, but I didn't, I stared into the eyes of the mask. The way V's head was tilted, the lighting of his bedroom…I saw, just for a moment, a glint just behind the black slits of the mask eyeholes. His eyes were tearful, but not from sadness- that was an emotion too common for a moment such as this. I could barely place the emotions in his voice, but in my heart I knew all too well what he was feeling: desperation, lust, and unimaginable inner conflict.

He tilted his head further, and I could see just the faintest outline of a human eye behind the mask, and then, with another minute tilt of his head, once again I could see nothing.

"You looked me right in the eyes and said that you wanted to help. Before the time comes, I want you to think about the consequences, Evey, for whatever choice you make."

The gloved hand released my throat, the lithe black form lifted from my body. V slid off his bed and he stood mere steps away. I hastily sat up and tried to cover myself from his laughing eyes, and I looked up at him, hoping for some kind of explanation, some gentle reassurance, _something_, anything!

V said nothing, but glided to the doorway. I still sat there on his bed, looking every bit the pathetic child-whore he wanted me to be. V paused just before slipping out through the anteroom, but he did not turn to face me. "There are hair ribbons and some makeup before the Faustian mirror in your bedroom. If all goes as it should, we will return home and I will be glad to read you the play. As you said before, Evey, it's all about trying to cheat the devil."

V turned and left me then, and all I could do was laugh, because if I had begun to cry, I knew that I would be driven mad by my own tears.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**- I'm going to go through most of the events in the film, but I think once this fic is through, I'll do something else. Maybe a sequel that takes place after the film, or a one-shot meant to take place within the film's time frame, or an AU or a few vignettes. I'm not really sure, to be honest, what should I do? 

**PS**- Does anyone have any good_ V for Vendetta_ fic recommendations? I like reading it just as much as all of you, but no one has updated (cough **Tree** cough) or written stories longer than a one-shot. :-( Also, I would have updated yesterday, but that "timeout request" error kept popping up, it was driving me crazy!

**V **

Evey has betrayed me.

I do not pretend to be surprised by this…although I am, in a way.

Surprised that she'd taken advantage of her first opportunity to get away from me? A man who, as far as she is concerned, kills at random in between launching attacks at the government- a madman, a lunatic with a death wish…?

No. Given Evey's childhood- _if_ she had been telling me the truth- it's no wonder that she would appeal for help. I had expected to slip into the Abbey and find her in a room somewhere with a telephone, hurriedly trying to contact the police, or perhaps she would have tried talking with Dennis, the Bishop's right hand man. I had been prepared for her to betray me- I had been waiting for it.

After the way I have behaved, her fear of me would be expected. I hadn't meant to get so carried away with the "rehearsal" that had taken place in my bedroom. I hadn't meant to take it as far as I had, but once we had begun our performance, I had been unable to stop myself. Evey is a beautiful distraction from the Hell of my dreams and the witnessed corruption of real life.

She's been staying with me in the Gallery for the past few months, sharing her thoughts and ideas, her accomplishments and failures- she had always been beautiful to me, even when injured, even when disheveled from sleep. Truly, she is the only companion that I have ever known; the only one to see my home, to even know of my existence as a man.

Is it any small wonder that I'd come to think of her as my own?

The notion of owning Evey is dangerous- ownership implies possessiveness, which implies caring, and caring could be used against me. Suppose Creedy had somehow caught us on the way to the Abbey- if I was alone, I would either hide, continuing on to fight another day, or I would fight, and submit to death only once my hands had felt the bones of Creedy's neck snap apart…

But I am not alone anymore, and haven't been for several months now. Evey has been with me, exploring my home and presenting me with her perspective on life. If Creedy captured Evey- what would I do?

_Evey…_

Has everything been a lie? Has this all been part of some plan of hers, to bring me into a false sense of security with her companionship, only to earn my indulgence for a little time outside the Gallery? In my mind, I can picture her running from me the moment she sees her chance- screaming that I'm a dangerous lunatic…

She should, after the way I have behaved. I myself cannot explain my actions, nor my own puzzling reaction to her response. I had seduced her purposefully- my original intent had been to just make her uncomfortable by bringing her to my personal space, and presenting her with the costume. Then, when I had returned to my room and saw her, I felt that it wasn't enough.

I know it wasn't the costume that moved me, perhaps it was seeing her beside my bed. I'm not sure what it was, but it was something I felt deep inside- a swelling in my chest, a pulling in the pit of my stomach. Behind the mask, my mouth had gone dry and my eyes had begun to water- it was the strangest sensation, and I can't understand it. I was silent for several moments, just staring at her and forcing the strange feelings to pass.

Once I was myself again, or as close as I could manage, I took Evey's hand and drew her into the circle of light that shone on the center floor of my room. I circled her to make sure that the costume fit properly and wasn't unbearably uncomfortable for her. She had said that she wanted to help. A bolt of anger shot through me at her lies, and I suddenly felt intense frustration from being so close to her.

My body had been tense with a frustration that I cannot explain- I had been angry with her, and I'd given over to my own pettiness by playing a mind games. Or, at least I'd told myself it was just a game. It had started off as such, by rehearsing. The rehearsal lasted a scant three minutes before I'd slipped back into myself and taken advantage of the opportunity before me.

I'd touched her skin, stroked through her hair…

_I love her_. _I've used her. I want her. I've terrified her…_.

Evey could be the first woman to share my bed. Intercourse does not equate to lovemaking, and I had used my voice and hands to make love to Evey Hammond. Stating the fact seems trivial, possibly because I knew that my intent had never been to take her- I had been trying to force the secret out of her, what she was planning, why she truly wanted to help me all of a sudden.

I want Evey, but I had used her fear and perverse attraction to me against her; I seduced her in search of the truth behind all her lies. I felt sick to my stomach for hours afterward, sick with self-loathing…

I hadn't meant to hurt her, I hadn't meant to touch her and yet…and yet, I had done both. I had wanted her to feel safe and secure before morphing into the monster of Peter Liliman. I wanted to show her exactly who she would betray me for killing.

_Was it worth it, Evey?_

I had hated myself once I'd left my bedroom. There was a tension in my body that I'd almost forgotten was possible for me. I had wanted her, and hated myself for wanting what I knew was beyond my reach, hated her for being what I could not have.

From the corridor, I had heard her laughing to herself while she was still in my room. Had she been playing a game with me in all the time she'd been my guest? Every word from her deceitful tongue nothing but a bold-faced lie? I feel like such a fool for wanting to believe that she had found hope in what I am doing…

It was all a ruse.

Hundreds of my books are filled with stories of wicked women using their bodies to distract men and Evey is no different! She'd even dressed for the occasion of her greatest lie, the one she knew would matter to me the most. The dress had proved something of a distraction for a few fleeting moments, but I am nothing if not in perfect control of my body and mind.

Evey is not so blessed- every one of her expressions, every last minute nuance told me that she was lying. Eyes are windows to the soul, and in hers I saw what I had hoped never to see from her. She was hiding some great truth from me and putting forth too much effort in her attempt at sincerity.

I had expected her to betray me in some way, but not to **_him_**, never to **_him!_**

The need to apologize for what I'd done had been first in my mind, but after listening to Evey laugh to herself for several minutes on my bed, my sympathies began to wither. Even the sight of the bruises I'd made on her neck didn't move me from my anger.

_You will betray me- fine then, betray me! It makes no difference, Evey, you'll just be one more amongst all the rest! You're nothing to me, you stupid, foolish girl!_

I did not offer her an apology, I demanded that she ready herself for the night. Together, we had walked on to Westminster Abbey, where the good Bishop was waiting for his indulgence to be delivered, a welcome sendoff on his last night in England. His last night, period, if I had anything to do with it. I had walked Evey to the right door, hidden in shadows as that sniveling rat Dennis let her into the inner sanctum. He'd given her a thorough look up and down at the front threshold, pleased by her appearance. Perhaps he thought that when the Bishop was finished…

I wasted no time in finding my way up onto the roof, where I would wait for one of the windows to open. In all truth, I didn't really need Evey for any of this. I could have broken into the Abbey on my own, done away with Dennis and all the Bishop's other lapdogs, leaving him for last. I could have taken my time with each of them, slowly but surely returning God's faithful servants back to Him.

Whether by sly infiltration or just by storming the front door, I know that I could have ended the entire Abbey myself- the police would have been baffled at the result of my violence. Blood pooling from knife wounds, acidic vomit soaking into the lush carpets from my poison…

If I could have acted alone, if I knew that she'd been intending to betray me, why did I bother to involve Evey?

A test.

I wanted to know for sure what she intended to do. I had seen the uncertainty, the lie in her eyes. She had lied when she told me she wanted to help. The story of her family might have been a lie as well, but it doesn't matter one way or the other now. She is gone.

I had wanted to believe her, and in a small, foolish way, I still do.

I am no fool, I had known that something was amiss the moment she approached me after so long of a silence. She had been wearing the burgundy dress I'd provided. It was modest yet alluring, much like the woman herself. True, I had provided the garment, but I had not expected her to wear it for me so soon. In the hopes that all went according to plan, I had procured that dress with the vision in mind of the two of us dancing on the rooftop balcony to celebrate all I had done. I'd pictured Evey in my mind's eye, her face and hair lit by the fireworks as we watched Parliament burn to the ground.

What experience my former self had of women is lost to me now. I can't remember my own face, much less anything from my old life. I haven't the faintest clue of whether or not I'd had a wife, or children, if I'd had aa beautiful loverat the time when I was taken, or if I'd even been drawn to women in the first place. All traces of my life before Larkhill are simply _gone_.

Gone like Evey, vanished, stolen away from me.

The experience I've had of women since destroying Larkhill has been kept to the bare minimum- just the occasional friendly small talk with shop girls when I buy food while wearing one of several masks. So much time has been spent alone, building a safe haven, reclaiming the treasures of the past, planning toward the future…

For all intents and purposes, Evey is the first woman I've ever truly known, and thus, she has been the first to betray me. She'd worn the dress to tempt me, she'd pleaded her heart to coax me, all the while she'd been planning to betray me to the very tyrants that I was desperate to free her from.

_Bloody, wretched girl!_

_"Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't."-_ what was true in Shakespeare's MacBeth is still true today!

I had been given only a moment's hope when I found the window unlocked. Perhaps our rehearsal in my bedroom had made her understand what a horrible world we live in, where a Bishop- _a man of God!-_ could be so twisted, and actually be allowed to act on his sick urges!

I hadn't told Evey that our Peter Liliman was actually Bishop Liliman. This omission was completely deliberate; I wanted her to see for herself how deep the corruption went in this country. Perhaps once she realized where we were, who was waiting for her in the upstairs bedroom, I'd thought that it would strengthen her allegiance to me.

The window was left open and I slipped in. Dennis was dead before he hit the ground, and I'd noticed that he hadn't appeared troubled, in fact he'd been humming to himself and idly flipping througha magazine when I'd come in through the window.Evey hadn't said anythingto alarm him, then.

I heard Evey and the Bishop down the hall in one of the rooms, formerly used as small reception halls, now used for the Bishop's and other party members' games. What a den of sick sin, and right under the public's nose!

I could hear raised voices, and wasted no time in breaking down the door. Let her see the truth, let her see who is truly worthy of her trust! A pedophile Bishop lusting for her like a dog in heat, or the man that has saved her several times over without expecting a thing in return- save for her companionship. I broke down the door and rushed to stand between Evey and the Bishop. I wanted her to see the stark contrast between the two of us- one man an aging rapist, the other her masked friend.

I had been relieved to see that Evey was all right; the thought that the old lecher might actually have come close to his goal had twisted my stomach. Though timid and unsure of me, I knew that Evey would never submit to allowing herself to be violated- if for nothing else, she would fight to protect herself. From Liliman's stance, I knew that she had hit her mark. _Good girl_.

I turned to the Bishop. I'd seen Father Liliman in Larkhill with the children, most of them too weak with hunger to stop him…

Here was no Bishop before me, but the priest Liliman, the most sadistic of men- _oh, this_ _man and what he's done_…I saw him through a blood-red haze, I saw the faces of all the children, so sick and weak, while he had his fun with them. To be generous, he'd toss an apple slice at them when he was through, to help them get past the taste; I'd seen him with Prothero, laughing as the children would scramble for the odd bit of food he would toss out, bringing out their savage instinct to survive.

There was one instance in which a pair of twelve-year-old twin boys, both mad with starvation, had killed each other over a slice of stale bread that Liliman had tossed between them. Neither boy ever tasted the bread, and the priest had only tutted at their sin of attempted gluttony, laughing with Prothero all the while.

This vengeance will be so satisfying that it will bring me to the edge of orgasm.

Ican see the fear in the priest's eyes, and relish in it. But then, he turned his eyes past me, to the disheveled Evey at my side. "Oh, God, she wasn't lying! It's you!"

That comment had taken me by surprise. When I'd first suspected that Evey would try to escape, I had assumed that she would try calling the police when she was in the Abbey and out of my sight. Maybe with someone's stolen cellular, or perhaps she would try appealing to Dennis- the man may have been a glorified errand-boy but he probably would have believed her if she'd told him that I was near, with the unyielding intent to kill anyone in the Abbey that stood between the Bishop and I.

The fact, the obvious, blatant truth that she had appealed to this false priest, this _monster_, had rocked me to the core.

_**Him**, Evey? You've betrayed me to the very man I've sent you to distract? Did I not make myself clear during our rehearsal, when I told you exactly what sort of man this is?_

_He intended to rape you, Evey, as he has done to countless others! How could you do this to me? I've saved your life, I've given you shelter, attention, protection, everything I have to offer, I have given to you without a second thought! I've never asked anything of you- it was you who lied with your wish to help…Evey, **why**?_

_I'd thought…I'd wanted to believe…_

I had been unable to say anything for several moments, all I could do was stare at her. She'd stuttered some false apology before running out of the room. I could have gone after her, I could have forced her to stay and made her watch me kill the Bishop, I could have ended her life with one of my blades- ensuring her eternal silence…but I did nothing.

_Coward. Let her run!_

I turned around to find the Bishop with a gun. Breaking his arm was simple, it was the rest- the Communion wafer, his pleadings and offers of money if I would only let him live that took the longest, giving me the greatest sense of satisfaction. Beg and plead, try to tempt me with some great sum of money, promise me women and a life spent in luxury, bed for mercy- you love the sound of your own voice, don't you Bishop? Well, I've been known to be quite talkative myself…

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue…"

Yes! Yes, Bishop, die! I've seen the magic happen in Commander Prothero's shower stall- the bulging of the eyes, the convulsing of his body. The retching, heaving spasms; the faint gurgling sound as his stomach lining combined with the poisons and then began the most beautiful chemical reaction.

He'd long since been curled into the fetal position on my feet, and I wondered if this was the feeling he'd carried with him at all times as he visited the children's cell blocks, this feeling of complete power.

The lining of his stomach, shot through with scarlet trails of blood began to leak from his mouth, a mere trickle at first, but then the filth spewed forth- a bubbling, stinking ooze. How poetic- it was his evil that spewed forth from each orifice! The Bishop is inside-out now, nothing left for him but a rose.

I hear sirens in the distance, coming fast. Evey is very quick. I leave the Bishop's decadent room and don't bother with the open window. The front door is easy enough, the police are on their way but I have plenty of time to disappear without having to rush.

I had hoped to find Evey in the alley, terrified and waiting for me, but I am alone. If she had come to her sense and waited for me, I would have forgiven her. Naturally, I wouldn't let her out of the Gallery until after the fifth, but she would have been forgiven, andwe could've shared the truth- her about why she'd tried betrayingme to Liliman, and I would've told her of my great vandetta.

But thereshe is not waiting in any of the others rooms of the Abbey, nor is she waiting out in the alley. As I'd made my way home, I had held onto the pathetic hope that she mightalready be there, waiting for me- begging for my love and forgiveness. Stupid girl, stupid me! The Gallery is empty, I can sense it the moment I step in through the door.

I am alone.

It's just as well now, I suppose. Evey is gone- _was she ever really here in the first place?_ I cannot say for sure, only that I must find her, and soon, before she is interrogated and then killed for her involvement with me. I hate her for her betrayal, but I love her enough that I will not sit by and allow them to kill her.

I love you Evey Hammond, and when I have you back, I will give you the most beautiful, most horrible thing in the world. I will grant you your wish and bring you to the point where you can live without fear. You will hate me for it, almost as much as you will love me in return. I will show you what it takes to find the last inch of yourself that has been buried so long by fear and oppression.

Yes, you will hate me, Evey, but you will love me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Next chapter will have plenty of V/Evey interaction that wasn't in the book or movie- to be honest, I'm getting fed up with writing what was in the movie. It's time for something new! Once this story is finished, I'll come up with another V story. Until then, there's only two chapters left after this one, so enjoy!

**Evey **

I betrayed V.

The Bishop had stared right at V, and made it perfectly clear that I had been trying to warn him. V stopped advancing when the Bishop's words registered, and the mask snapped around to look right at me. The face was the same, betraying nothing as usual- but V tilted his head softly to the side, his body language screamed disappointment.

Disappointment, but no shock.

V might have had suspicions of my loyalty, and the Bishop had wasted no time in confirming them. I'm a liar, and because of me V would be captured, tortured and killed. As he stared at me in the Bishop's room, silently demanding that I explain myself, an image of V being attacked and his ever-smiling mask forced into a black bag swam into my vision.

What could I say to him? "I'm sorry" was never going to be enough. I couldn't stay there; I knew what V was going to do, it was his only reason for bringing me to the Abbey. He was there to kill the Bishop and nothing would stop him. I couldn't take his staring any longer- I could feel his eyes burning at me from behind the black holes of the mask. He knew what I had done, and was demanding that I explain myself.

_I'm so sorry V…_

I ran from the room, barely noticing when V called my name. As I ran down the hallway I could hear a few gunshots ring out, quickly followed by a man screaming in pain. What have I done? Oh, God, had the Bishop killed V already? Was he lying there on the floor, bleeding to death from the gunshots?

_I'm a killer, I'm a killer, I'm a killer…_

_Run, run, run…_

I panicked, and ran away from the Abbey as fast as I could in the silk slippers V had given me. I hid in alley shadows as I ran an incomprehensible path away from the Abbey. I didn't want V to find me- I couldn't face him; I could never face him after what I'd just done! His shoulders would sag with disappointment, his voice would hold a lingering regret as he spoke, and I knew that he would never smile at me again behind the mask again. My stomach heaved at the thought of seeing him again, knowing what he would think of me.

_V, you idiot! How could you have involved me in this? How could you have trusted me?_

_Maybe because you begged him to let you help? Because you lied right to his face?_

I glanced up at a street sign and realized that I was only five blocks from Gordon's flat. Would he help me? Would he even remember me? It was a damned terrifying risk, but what choice did I have?

I ran, trying my best to stick in the shadows, but what was the point when my blouse was white and my skirt was bright pink? To this day I'm amazed that no one caught me while I was running to a place that I could only hope would be safe.

I pounded on Gordon's door, praying to God that he would be in, and alone. Thankfully, he was. How could I explain my getup? Or where I've been the last few months, or anything else that's happened?

I tried, but my throat was dry and my eyes were wet. Gordon only hugged me, gave me some clothes (his sister's, he'd explained) and brought out a bottle. The alcohol didn't help me to relax at all, I kicked myself right after gulping down the drink.

_What if he's drugged it, and the Fingermen are on their way right now? What if he's just waiting for them to break down the front door and drag you off to wherever they've taken V? What if Gordon's just trying to get you drunk?_

My mind raced, but when Gordon drank his own, I calmed down a bit, but not much. I refused his offer of another glass. The whiskey was prime, but I couldn't take any chances- I'd taken a big enough risk just by coming here. The thought occurred to me that Gordon, being so much taller and stronger than me, could've just hit me or tied me up somewhere and called the police- so why was he helping me?

"You've trusted me, it'd be terrible manners for me not to trust you,"

_My poor Gordon…even the powerful must answer to the command of tyranny…_

He'd been beaten by Creedy himself, after he told me to hide. My poor, self-sacrificing Gordon, I'll always love you for what you did…

They'd taken Gordon, and I was terrified. The usual instinct of "fight or flight" took over, and I've never fought for anything- not my family, not my friends, not even for myself. I'd begged and pleaded to the Bishop, declaring my complete and total innocence, all the while trying to ignore his hot, withered hand as it crept up my thigh…

_Oh, God, V…what must you think of me? I'm pathetic…_

I'd thought I'd made it out, I'd thought I could escape- stay with another friend, maybe ring that cousin of mine in Surrey…I was almost free, just outside he garden, when-

"Gotcha!"

The light was extinguished, and I felt myself being carried and moved around. I was spun several times, dizzying me, forcing me to lose my sense of direction. I was lost, but not alone. Someone's hands were clamped around my arms like a vice, dragging me through a hallway.

My eyes exploded in pain when the bag was removed, and I looked across the table to see Mr. Creedy. I couldn't see his face, but his profiled silhouette is just as recognizable. He accused me of every last one of V's crimes.

_My God, they're going to kill me!_

Terror seized me speechless. I was forced into a cold, clinical room. They shaved my head, nicking my scalp and ears but they ignored my tears. I was blindfolded, stripped naked, my wrists were shackled together and someone lifted me by the waist to hang me from a hook on the low ceiling- whoever it was they made no effort to hide a groping of my chest.

The water was hot, almost blistering my skin and the pressure was bruising. I screamed, my cries swallowed by the steam. I was let down off the hook and stuffed into a ratty orange shift, my blindfold replaced by the famous black bag…escorted into a cold, stone cell.

I'd never been so sick or so afraid. It kills me to explain the details of my daily "examinations", the beatings, the cigarette burns. My captors were creative in their tortures and humiliations. I would be deprived of oxygen, shocked, starved, my bones painfully twisted, injected with something that would keep me ill for hours…I feared rape, but it never happened.

All the while, the constant questioning never stopped. The wanted to know everything about V- where he lived, what his plans were, who he really was…if I had known, and I'm ashamed to say it, I would have told them.

_Yes- I am Evey Hammond, pathetic to the bitter end…_

I would have told them anything that they wanted to know, but the thought occurred to me that they wouldn't be asking me if V had already been captured- what would be the point of such an elaborate mind-game? I held on to the hope that V would break into the interrogation room, or my personal cell and save me, wrap me up in his velvet cloak and bring me back to my room in the Shadow Gallery. I would stay in that tiny bedroom forever, I didn't care, so long as I could be safe from the constant pain and questions.

There was a rat in my cell- a curiously healthy animal, despite he never sullied himself with the swill that was meant for me. The first few days, I could only cry- wishing and remembering a life so much better than this constant string of intermixed torture and humiliation. I remembered my parents and brother, my few friends…

As a citizen, I'd lived in paranoid fear, as a prisoner I lived in nothing but pain and the certainty that I would die within the gloomy cold walls of my cell. I'd been shivering- they'd thrown a bucket of ice water on me before leaving me in the drafty cell- on the floor, curled into a fetal ball in a pathetic attempt to stay warm. I knew that I would die- there was no question, it was all just a matter of how long it would take me to starve, or freeze, or just give in from my guilt and grief.

_Oh, if V could see me now!_

I'd heard the crinkling of some paper in the rat's hole, and thought that maybe it was just the rodent helping himself to something better than the plain cold oatmeal delivered to me every other day. Stupid rat, he'd bitten my toes while I slept almost every night since I'd first been shoved in that hellhole.

I reached in, and felt around on the dusty floor- my fingers brushed something, a narrow tube of thin, flimsy paper. I took it out and unrolled it. There were pencil markings, smudged with time and a shaky hand. My body was aching, spasms from hunger were tearing through me. I could feel myself dying, and knowing that the end was near, I just accepted it.

The message was short, the story of Valerie's beautiful life- her loves, her fears and her accomplishments…she spoke of integrity, of keeping your soul within the last inch of yourself, to fight, that even if you die, that inch of your soul will live on in some small way, even if only in the angry memories of those you'd defied to your death.

I kissed her letter once I'd finished reading, and when the time came, when they were finally finished with me, I held onto her letter for the courage to face my end. I could not betray V again. I wondered if he would be proud to see me, proud to see me strong of soul, even if frail in body.

The last guard almost pleaded with me to tell them more about V, the masked terrorist.

I had nothing to say. I could have told them all I'd seen in the Shadow Gallery, that it was an underground treasure trove of arts long banned from the public eye- I could've described every last detail of all the wonders V had protected so fiercely. But I said nothing- not because I didn't know where V was, and not because I didn't want to betray him again…I said nothing, because to give them even a word would break me.

I would not betray V again. I'd rather die behind the chemical sheds, and told the guard the exact same thing.

"Then you have no fear left. You're completely free."

The guard stepped away, his footsteps hastily fading down the hallway. He left the door open. It took me five minutes to absorb his words, to weigh the consequences of this being yet another trick. Well, if it was a trick, then what did it matter? I was ready for death, and wasn't about to get my hopes up.

I stepped out into the hallway, only to find a painted mannequin guarding the exit.

_Where am I? What's happening?_

Questions spun in my mind, but there were no answers…I pushed the door open and felt my stomach clench. I recognized the color of the stonewalls, the smell of his home.

My mind wasn't accepting the sight before me. The Shadow Gallery, the one safe haven that I'd pictured myself in for weeks as I was being held captive…being held captive by the guards, by Creedy…Creedy, whose face I never saw, whose hands always wore black leather, who…

_Oh, God, no!_

I wanted to believe that it was another trick, just a guard in a Guy Fawkes mask…_oh, God, V, what have you done to me?_

No guard held himself the way V did, no guard could express himself with such body language…no guard…V was a theatrical personality, he could act, his voice…

"Hello Evey."

The bastard actually had the gall to say hello after everything he'd put me through! My mind was still struggling with the disbelief of what he'd done to me, while anger was beginning to erupt under the surface. He went on and on about how he'd hated what he'd done, but how he couldn't stop, how he'd done it all for me.

_For me!_

The emotions that had been festering toward him in the cell spewed to the surface. In that moment as we faced each other, I hated V with all of my soul- everything I had, everything I was, poured into the simple truth of pure hatred. I would've attacked if I'd had the energy…

V dismissed my insults and accusations, forcing me to see that I was alive- the emotions were too much, I collapsed in his arms, laboring for breath, my vision blurred with tears of hate and something else, some strange emotion I couldn't name was blossoming in my chest for this man who'd given me the greatest gift I'd ever received.

I was alive as I stood naked in the freezing rain, welcoming death, loving life, loving the stars and the sky, the rain and the pain, loving V more than I thought it possible to love another human being, loving myself for not giving in, loving "Valerie" even if she had just been one of V's creations, loving London, and most of all, knowing that I had a purpose now- the citizens had to be free, they had to know the truth, they had to _live_.

I never felt my knees buckle, I never felt V carry me back inside the Gallery, bathe me, clothe me or put me to bed. I slept, exhausted, and woke only once to find myself in V's room, in V's bed, with his arm around me.

I touched the hand that rested gently on my waist- he had removed his gloves, but not the mask. I turned to find Guy Fawkes grinning at me, his breath coming deep and even.

I was exhausted and horribly malnourished, poisoned and sick. But I was alive, and I'd never felt happier or more at peace. A sudden daring, bold strength had swept into my soul. I was truly alive, because V tortured me endlessly.

I hated him, I loved him.

I leaned over and kissed the cold, pink cheek of his mask.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Yes, I rushed the last chapter a little. I'm sorry, but I'm truly anxious to end this story (even though it's been a ton of fun to write!) and start anew. I didn't mean for the 8th chapter to be so rushed, I know that I skimmed over a lot of it, but I have no wish to linger on the tortures V put her through- like V in this chapter, I'd like to move on. Hopefully y'all will like his chapter better!

**V **

She sleeps beside me, quiet and frail. Her presence is foreign, but her body is warm beneath my hands- soft along the curve of her waist, angular on the jutting of her hip. It killed me to hurt her, but she does not believe me. I do not know what to expect from her when she awakens. She will be furious; I expect a continuation of last night's ranting. She hates me now, she thinks me a sick liar, that I enjoyed doing all that I did to her.

_Evey…_

I wonder if she can possibly understand how I hated myself, how sick I was after each session. No. She doesn't know, and I won't tell her. It's better to move on, not to stew over the details. It's over, at least for now.

I gave her a month's taste of what I'd had years to savor- it should be enough now that she will finally understand. My poor Evey. Dark circles hang under her eyes, the dark bruises I've left on her body are prominent, even in the dim light of my bedroom.

I'm reminded of her first several nights here in the Shadow Gallery when I'd watched her as she slept. I'd been confused, and fascinated and…curious, in a way. This night is different- tonight I was not an observer in her fitful sleep, but a participant. I'd laid her against me, daring to put an arm about her waist to keep her still. Her skin is soft and pale; my hand is contrasted darkly against the gentle curve of her torso.

I think it best to leave her side now- mine will be the last face she'd want to see when she wakes up. I leave the room and begin to move about the Gallery, tidying up, awaiting the mistress's return.

It's several more hours before I hear my bedroom doors open. Evey is awake. I rush to the kitchen and begin a small meal. I had half-starved her, she is without a doubt famished. Last night she collapsed on the roof, now from overwrought emotions, but from pure and simple hunger.

I begin her eggs.

Turning, I see her pale figure standing in the doorway, one little foot over the threshold. She's watching me, staring, seeking. I set the food aside for a moment and turn to face her fully. Her body is thin and bruised, but it is not her body that concerns me. It is her eyes.

Where once she was timid, her eyes reflect a burning strength. The brown pools are looking into my own, seeking the eyes behind the mask. _She can see me_.

I expect her to start screaming, throwing things at me, all the while declaring eternal hatred. Instead, she moves forward, into the circle of my arms. I can feel the bones of her shoulders and spine through the cotton of her shirt, but more importantly I can feel the pulse of her heartbeat against my chest.

Her arms loosen from my back, and without a word she sits down at the table. I set the plate in front of her. She does not begin to devour her breakfast- to do so would induce vomiting. Evey begins to eat slowly, savoring each bite. It will be short work to restore her health, but I will enjoy doting on her again.

I am pleased, and refill her teacup.

Evey has not spoken to me, but nor has she reviled…it was _she_ who reached for _me_, was it not? I wish I understood women better; no, I wish I understood Evey better. She is not like other people, she is different. No one has ever stepped in to help me, no one has ever endured torture to protect me.

_Torture…_

What can I say to her? "I'm sorry, but it had to be done."? She can't possibly understand that. I beat her, I deprived her of food, I held her head underwater…_I became the guards of Larkhill_- my only mercy was that I allowed Evey to keep her virginity. Had her capture been genuine, that would have been among the first things taken from her- if not by the guards, then certainly by another inmate.

I couldn't do it, I am horrible, but that was a line that even I dared not cross.

Evey disappears from the kitchen while I am off in my thoughts, and I find her again on the chaise lounge reading. She doesn't wish to be disturbed, so I leave her. I go outside where, in classic English fashion, it is raining again, hard and heavy. I don't venture far, not a full five blocks from the Gallery.

There is nothing for it, really. Things have been set into motion while Evey was with that Gordon friend of hers; the only thing left to do is wait for the fifth. I should relish my time to wait for the big bang- but I feel restless, and there is another feeling, hinting around the hollow of my chest, itching at the corner of my mind. It took me several minutes of pondering to identify this new and strange feeling: dread. Dreading the fifth? I didn't know why I would feel such a way, but there are more important things to consider than my dismissive feelings.

I circle round, and when I return to the Gallery, Evey is still reading. She barely glances at me when I pass, and I do not attempt to draw her out. This isn't going as I'd expected.

The hour grows late, and even the wicked must sleep. I slip into my room and remove the gloves, setting them on the vanity counter. The boots and cloak are next. The fedora hat, and then the tunic vest. I have left my bedroom doors open in case Evey calls for me, and thus I leave the mask on- she has seen my hands, but my face must remain hidden.

I slouch up on the headboard, propped by pillows and begin to read a book of my own. I hear footsteps, and before I can react, Evey has slipped into the bed beside me, curling in and settling down. I don't know what to do.

"Evey…" I start.

She turns to look up at me and there is a strange, sad smile gracing her lips. "Don't say anything, V. It's over now,"

Her voice is hoarse, but I do as she asks, and stay silent beside her.

The next morning it seemed that nothing had ever change between us. Evey's hunger for knowledge rivaled her physical hunger for food. She had lost several pounds, and I was only too happy to help her regain the weight. I answered her every question about the art of my home, the actors in my film collection and the authors of my books.

We laughed and told amusing stories for hours. I had never felt so happy- my loneliness dissipated, I had a friend. Evey slept in bed with me for one week. In truth, it was all innocence- we slept on our sides, nestled together like spoons. My bare hand would stray to her waist of its own accord; a touch Evey did not deny me.

_I just wanted…_

It was on the night of the seventh day when Evey turned to face me, my hand still on her waist. She lifted her hand to my mask, stroking it with a great deal of tender affection. Her eyes, strong and dark, were wet with tears. "V…this will be the last time…"

Her voice was hesitant, and I was beginning to understand. She had been quiet lately, staring far off into space. Her silence spoke volumes; a distance had been wedged between us, born of her need to finally escape me. Evey was going to leave, and this time I could do nothing to stop her.

I said nothing, only held her closer to me. Eventually we both slipped into uneasy sleep.

We woke together the next morning, quiet and unsure. I went to the alcove of my room where I'd left my gloves and boots. Evey had disappeared into her former bedroom. I tried to keep the routine of our morning rituals intact; hoping, somehow, that if I did nothing differently, Evey would remain with me.

Is it selfish to wish her to stay? Yes, but it was true all the same. She had given me hope, companionship, so much more than I could ask for…_please, Evey_…

She did not appear for breakfast. The tea had cooled before I went on to the main foyer and selected a song to play. Every tragedy should have the proper soundtrack. The song was fitting, the music hung heavy on my soul. I stared at the records inside the jukebox, and thought of all the great singers of the banned past.

What tragedy could have occurred in their own lives to make them create such melancholy rhythms? If given the opportunity, I hadn't a doubt that I could've performed a thousand sad songs for Evey and myself. I wanted her to stay, and it tore at my insides to know that nothing I could say or do would prevent her leaving me.

I didn't hear Evey approach me from behind.

"V, I'm leaving."

What could I say to that, that simple declaration? The certainty in her voice was final. Who was I to keep her caged down in the galleries with me? I've given her the wings of true courage- it would be cruel to refuse her the freedom to fly…

I looked down into the jukebox. "There are 872 songs in here. I've listened to all of them but I've never danced to any of them."

"Did you hear me?"

I turned to face her, leaning my back against the music. "Yes." I hated the way my voice sounded: quiet, resigned…sorrowful.

"I can't stay here."

"I know. You won't find any more locked doors here."

She moved forward, and I saw that she had Valerie's letter, her last testament to the world. "I thought about keeping this, but it didn't seem right, knowing that you wrote it."

"I didn't." I said. Off her confused expression, I led her away. "Can I show you something before you go?"

Evey followed me to the private shrine I'd built for the actress, the beauty, Valerie Page. Movie posters and clippings from magazines adorned the walls, and bushes of scarlet Carson roses blossomed throughout the small room I'd dedicated to the woman whose spirit lived on in me.

Poor Valerie...I might have been able to save her, but truly it had been she who'd saved me by dying. It was only days after the chalk X appeared on her door that I made my escape, and was reborn. I shake the thought away and focus on the girl by my side.

Evey gasped out, "She was real?"

I could only nod.

"She's beautiful, did you know her?"

Behind the mask, I sighed heavily- the end was near, the last thing I wanted. "No. She wrote the letter just before she died. I delivered it to you just as it had been delivered to me."

I saw the realization in her eyes- it wasI who had beenthe truevictim in the fifth room.

_Yes, Evey,now you know the truth about your masked protector…_

"The it really happened, didn't it? You were in the cell next to her, and that's what this has all been about. You're getting back at them for what they did to her…and to you."

Her voice was slightly accusatory- almost as if she was disappointed.

_I'm sorry Evey, but I cannot forgive what they did and you are a fool if you should dare expect it of me…_

"What they did to me, they created me." I said. "It's a basic principle of the universe that every action will create an equal and opposing reaction," I added. It seemed a pathetic excuse for justifying all that I'd done, and all that there was still left to do, but I just couldn't manage to explain myself.

"Is that how you see it, like an equation-"

"What was done to me was monstrous!" I barked at her.

She did not flinch. "And they created a monster."

If she wanted to hurt me, her arrow met its mark. I am a monster, everything about me is as hideous as it is terrible- but I won't stop my plan. Not for her or anyone else. She has been the only good thing in my life, but I can't stop now, I'm too close. I must change the world for the people, for _her_.

_Evey…_

"Do you know where you'll go?"

She smiled, "No, that would have scared me before…I suppose I should thank you for that."

She stepped forward to me then, and suddenly, her facevery close. Her eyes dropped to the lips of the mask, but just as quickly as she'd moved to me, she stepped back. Why kiss me, Evey? Hard, sone-cold metal is all you will feel, a faint coppery tang is all you will taste. I longer for her to lay a hand on my chest, just the gentlest brush of her fingers against my gloved hands.

She never even touched me...

Evey back away and took a deep breath to gather her nerves. "Thank you, and goodbye."

I could have let her go, never to see her again, but I _am_ a man, and inherently selfish…

"Evey, can I ask you for something?"

She turned and nodded, a reproachful look in her eyes- if I asked her to stay, I knew that she would agree, but I couldn't do that to her. A man does not set the dove free, only to call it back again. "If I had one wish, it would be to see you again, if only once, before the fifth."

It was a compromise- I just wanted to see her again, to know she was safe, and that she would remember mewhenmy end came.

Evey nodded in acquiesce to my plea, and with a few steps more, she was gone.

The sound of the hidden door closing echoed in the Gallery for what felt like a millennium, even weeks after she'd left. With Evey so suddenly gone, it felt as if the beauty of the art around me faded. No book could hold my attention, no film had any appeal. The scarlet Carsons, even in fill bloom, seemed withered. The sight of Valerie- once a source of peace and renewed inspiration- only made me restless.

The vendetta, the great plan, is still first in my mind- my determination never wavers. I've planned with the upmost precision, but I feel strange- there is an emptiness inside that I long to fill. The dread that I'd felt has returned, stronger and more forceful. I see now the way to end the government is by turning the main party members against each other- and there is only one way to ensure fulfillment of my own Faustian bargain.

That's what it's all about in the end, trying to cheat the devil.

My end is growing closer with each passing day. Several times I have heard sirens racing from one direction to another- perhaps to capture Evey, perhaps to capture an innocent just like her. I force the images of the brutal tortures I'd visited upon her from my mind- I would like nothing more than to remember the happier times. I'm terrified that she's been captured, and has been tortured these past months that she's been gone.

_My Evey..._

The fifth grows near, and I've adopted the strange habit of waiting. Simply waiting in her former bedroom, just waiting for her to return. I can feel it in my bones, with an instinctive certainty, that my end is near.

_Will Evey return to me before it's all over? Will she keep her promise, and come to me before the fifth?_

With Evey gone, there was no need to wear the mask. I look into the eyes of my own reflection, furious with myself for allowing tears. I throw the mask into the mirror, happily shattering the glass. Ashamed, pathetic, and very, very alone, I slumped to the floor and sobbed among the shards.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note**: As much as I'd like to twist this story- alas, I cannot. I said from the beginning that I would follow the film, and we all know how it ended. Thank you for all of the reviews, I appreciate each and every one- love to you all!Now this is finished, I'm going to write an original V story.

**PS**- in the film novel, it mentions that Evey's hair has grown back to about half the length is was when she and V first met; I don't know any woman alive that would shave their head by choice, so I'm changing that one tiny part to reflect what she'd done in the book. Also, I loved the dancing scene in the film, but would it have killed them to make Evey wear a bra? I'm changing her hair and her clothes!

**V**

It won't be long now. I can feel it closing in on me, all the way down to my bones. Guy Fawkes will always smile, always be jolly and carefree, but all I can feel is the growing dread. I've dealt with them all- Rookwood, Prothero, Liliman, Surridge…I've turned party members against each other- that detective, Finch, and his sidekick Dominic, they know the real truth now.

Creedy was under surveillance when I offered my deal. The **X** is on his door, he's agreed to the bargain. He'll bring down Sutler, and he believes that he'll bring me down as well. I want him to go on believing that notion, and it may even be the truth. I know that Creedy won't come for me alone, he is no fool. He and his henchmen may kill me tonight- I am not afraid, I am ready to die, but I must take Creedy with me, for if he is allowed to live, as the only living party member, he will tear this country apart.

I've worked too long to fail so close to the end. Twenty years of building, studying, planning…it's all come down to this one night, this one November night…

_She hasn't come back, my Evey._

Had her promise been made just to appease? Did she even intend on returning to this gilded cage? No dove would volunteer for clipped wings, why did I ask her to come back to me? I'm terrified that she's been captured- perhaps she'd only taken a few steps outside the Shadow Gallery before being taken.

After what I've done to her, I know that she could survive torture- but merely surviving is not good enough! I hadn't released her from fear only to have her survive, my efforts had been so that she could _live!_

_I want my dove to fly, one lonely bird in an endless stormy sky!_

Months have gone by, and while I've been gathering materials and planting yet more seeds of doubt and unrest in the public gardens, I have seen neither hide nor hair of my Evey. Perhaps I should not think of her so possessively- it's been months, she may have found someone. Someone who can give her the world more than I can. Someone for whom she holds only love, with no fear or mistrust. Someone that can hold her in the night, flesh to flesh…

Evey belongs to no one, least of all me. I created her, carving a new Evey from the old, but she will never belong to anyone. She may have found a lover, she may marry and someday grow heavy with child, but no one will ever hold the reigns on her soul.

_Why hasn't she come back? _

If she's not been caught, then there is nothing to hold her back from keeping her promise to me. There are no days left, only hours now, every minute drawing closer to the end of what once was.

I want her here with me, together we can dance on the balcony roof and watch my fireworks as Parliament burns. Together, we could watch a new country emerge- one free of tyranny and oppression. If I live, if she returns…

More hours pass by. The time to meet Creedy grows near- my heart feels heavy, I can feel a pressure tightening in my temples. My body shudders- it's just cold in her room, that's all, that's all it is…

I don't know why I'm sitting here, staring at the bed as if she might magically appear before me. I'm reminded yet again of watching her while she slept. I'd known true peace only through her. This room has been empty for so long. The books that she was able to read in her time with me are set before the Faustian mirror. I hadn't taken much notice of them before, but Evey isn't coming back, and I can at least gain an insight into what she'd read before leaving.

There are roughly twenty books set by the mirror. _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelly. _The_ _Portrait of Dorian Gray_ by Oscar Wilde. _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkein. _Harry Potter, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Utopia…_

The last book is marked only about half-way through to the end. _The Phantom of the_ _Opera_ by Gaston Leroux. Interesting that she didn't finish it. Perhaps she found the parallels in the book to her first few weeks here to be too striking. More interesting how life imitates art. I can freely admit to myself that I love her now- there is no point in hiding the truth, not now in my last few hours.

It's unbelievable that now, after over twenty years of solitude and violence, I can be capable of such a fragile, pure emotion as love. Me, who has killed; me, who had poisoned; me, who has manipulated, lied and schemed…

After twenty years, Evey Hammond has captured me in only one. She's lied to me, betrayed me, and I've done much worse to her- a love born of mutual mistrust and fascination? Silly, really, that I would admit love to myself now, hours away from very possible death.

I've fought Fingermen before, but my main advantage was that of their surprise and fear of a strange masked man quoting some play or another. This is different. Undoubtedly, Creedy will bring in his top men- strong and hearty, excellent marksmen and soldiers. I will be outnumbered five to one at the very least- I expect that there will be ten men standing between Creedy and I, and every last one of them will be armed to the teeth.

Naturally, Creedy will have some serious firepower of his own as well. By all accounts, this will not be a fight that I can win. The certainty of death does not bother me so much as the uncertainty of Creedy's. If he lives, he will be in full control of the country, a new king with a lust for punishing the peasants. I may die tonight, but I cannot allow him to live.

_I wish Evey was here- what is that?_

My jukebox is playing that song again- could it be...?

I leave the small room and follow the sultry music, only to find the object of my affection, desire and fascination waiting for me. Her hair has grown back, only just to the midline of her neck, colored a smooth chocolate brown. I miss the caramel curlsof her former self, but the striking new color matches the inner strength and peace in her eyes.

She's dressed simply, a white skirt and rose blouse; her smile for me is small but lovely. I feel…

"I wasn't sure you'd come," I started.

Evey's tender grin did not waver. "I said I would."

_My last night, I wouldn't be anywhere other than here and now…_

I am speechless, and strangely shy. Evey has returned to me, changed and even more beautiful than before; there is a pang of shame lancing through my chest that, because of what I am, I cannot change for her- no matter how hard I try.

"You look well," I offered her lamely.

"Thank you." She is moving forward now.

"You've had no difficulties?"

"A fake I.D. works better than a Guy Fawkes mask,"

"I admit that I worried for you whenever I would hear a siren," I tell her.

She says nothing, but continues forward until she is standing before me. What I wouldn't give to be able to reach out and…

"I have a gift for you, Evey. It's the reason I wanted to see you again. But…before I give it to you, I was hoping you might like to dance." I ask. It had taken surprisingly little courage to make the request of her. She had seemed to be waiting for me to take her hand.

The tender smile again. "Now? On the eve of your revolution?"

I shrug, and tilt my head at her in a recognized plea for her indulgence. "A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having."

The corner of one lip quirks at that. "I'd love to."

So it goes- I select a song. Not a particularly special one, but it is slow and steady, fitting to the circumstance. I set the song to play, and we take the dancer's positions. Our hands entwine; Evey's free hand rests lightly on my shoulder, my own settles contentedly on the curve of her waist.

We turn and sway to the music, silent at first, but Evey comments, "You've been busy. They're very scared right now. I heard that Sutler is going to make a public statement tonight."

I nod, and my heart grows heavier still. "It's almost over."

"The masks were ingenious, it was very strange to suddenly see your face everywhere."

I felt compelled to make a statement of my own, Evey must understand that she's made an impact on me, that she means something- _everything_- to me! " 'Conceal me what I am; and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.' "

"_Twelfth Night_!" Her smile lights the room, but my dread is settling in ever deeper. Evey knows nothing of my bargain with Creedy- she assumes that tonight will be another rooftop concert; a flick of my wrist, and Parliament will be blown apart just as the Old Bailey from last year.

"Viola." I state. I can hear the warm heartache in my voice.

I_ want to stay…I want to stay…I want to stay, but how can I? Tonight a new world will be created, a world will have no need of me- _Evey_ will have no need of me…_

We were quiet for a bit after that sweet exchange. Swaying, rocking…our bodies were held apart, but my grip on her waist tightened fractionally. I want Evey so much, but she must remain beyond my reach. My only, selfish hope is that when the fifth passes, Evey will remember me.

"I don't understand it," she says eventually.

"What?"

"How you can be one of the most important things that has happened to me, and I still don't know anything about you. I don't know where you were born, who your parents were…"

I know where she is going with this.

"…I don't even know what you really look like."

Her small hands pull from the dancing pose, and reach for the lower edge of my mask. I take her hands in my own- gently enfolding them; only firm enough to stop her from revealing me. "Evey please, there is a face beneath this mask, but it isn't me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it, or the bones under them…"

I don't want to ruin what has taken a year to build between us by revealing my face to her. I have no doubt of her reaction- thinly veiled disgust combined with pity. I would no longer be V to her; I would be the scarred, destroyed face beneath this mask. I would prefer her to remember my face only as smiling Guy Fawkes- the mask is more handsome than I could ever hope to be.

"I understand," she said at length.

"Thank you," I reply quietly.

"I found a copy of the _Count of Monte Cristo_, I think of you every time I watch it. It's funny though, now I never feel as sorry for Mercedes as I do for the Count." Her words are not lost on me, and it is the final confirmation that she cares.

The music has stopped, but I hold her to me a bit longer. I see the clock on the wall, "There isn't much time left," I say, "and I have something that I must give you."

I donned my cloak and fedora hat before leading her down, far lower than she'd been before. "The Underground? I thought they'd closed it all down."

"They did. It took ten years to clear the tracks, lay some of my own."

I showed her the inside of the train, every spare inch packed with enough flammable chemicals that it could- and God willing, _would_- destroy England's corrupt Houses of Parliament.

"It's really happening tonight, isn't it?" She asked. Her voice was both excited and nervous; her voice matched the way I felt.

"It will, if you want it to."

"What?"

"This is my gift to you, Evey. Everything I have: my home, my books, the Gallery, this train…I'm leaving them to you, to do with what you will."

She didn't understand at first, and demanded that I explain myself fully. "The time has come for me to meet my maker, and repay him in kind for all the he has done."

Understanding dawns on her- I may not return to finish our dance, I may not return at all.

I turn to leave, and the girl begs for me to wait. "V, please, you don't have to do this. You could let it go, we could still leave here, together…"

She steps closer and closer, her eyes wide and pleading. God help me, I am tempted. As she moves closer, images flood my mind of endless dancing, a kiss, making mad love in the dark, living together in the Gallery- reading, talking, laughing…I am tempted, I would love nothing more than to leave behind the killing and violence…but all that I've worked for has been for her, for myself. To destroy the party as it had destroyed poor Valerie and the man I'd once been. If I stop now, Creedy and Sutler will execute so many innocent people that Larkhill won't even register for comparison.

Death, destruction, violence, vengeance…for so long there's been nothing else…now there never will be. The world my death will create is for Evey, beautiful Evey, to love and enjoy.

"Evey…I know there is no tree waiting for me…" I struggle to make her understand.

"V, please…" There are tears in her dark eyes, and inwardly I pray that I will return, if only for long enough to tell her that I love her, God how I love her!

My heart speeds in my chest, tightening and swelling- I feel lightheaded and the dread is so strong now that I can feel my hands shaking.

Evey reaches for me, her delicate hands resting on my arms. Her plea moves me, and for one instant, I forget. I forget the plan, I forget Creedy and Sutler, the train, everything. Evey is standing before me, her eyes full of love just before they slip shut and she brings her lips to mine.

Before I am even aware of myself, I've done the same. My eyes slip closed in anticipation and desire, I lean in…

I wait a moment, then two, and several. I open my eyes, only to find that Evey has kissed the mask, the only face of mine that she will ever know. I am denied once again, though this time I am in a prison of my own making. Guy Fawkes has trapped me behind his laughing eyes, his cool, immobile lips.

My hands had reached out to bring Evey closer to me, both of them resting high on her waist, just below her breasts. I take her hands in mine, and give her a falsely reassuring squeeze.

I don't know what to say, only the most simple answer- "I can't."

I move from her then, and start off down the tunnel, ignoring her cries after me.

It isn't a long way to the tube station lobby where I'd agreed to meet Creedy, when I arrive, I see that I was not mistaken. Several armed men are waiting for me, with Creedy in the middle.

I ask is he's kept his side of our bargain, and he orders his men to bring Sutler down- the once all-powerful leader of Norsefire, trembling and crying in terror. "At last we finally meet. I have something for you Chancellor. A farewell gift for all the things you've done, for the things you might have done, and for the only thing you have left."

I slip a rose into his jacket, ignoring his pleas- Creedy shoots Sutler in the forehead, summing up my own feelings entirely. "Disgusting!"

Sutler falls to the side, his face frozen in panic. Creedy doesn't waste time before turning to me. "Now that's done with, it's time to have a look at your face. Take off your mask."

_You fool, the only thing you would find beneath this mask is the creature that you and Sutler created…_

"No."

"Defiant to the end, eh? You won't cry like him, will you? You're not afraid of death, you're like me." Creedy says with a smile.

_Disgusting!_

"The only thing that you and I have in common, Mr. Creedy, is that we're both about to die." I retort.

"Is that so? And how do you imagine that will happen?"

"With my hands around your neck."

Creedy doesn't believe a word I've said, that alone gives me a powerful advantage. He taunts me a bit more, and I taunt him right back. The men open fire…

I've been shot before, but never with such powerful weapons, and never so many guns. The protective shield holds fast, but I can feel the burning sting of bullets tear through me. I struggle to stay on my feet, the end is too near to give up now…

The air had exploded with the gunfire, but as quickly as it had begun, the fire stopped. I am still standing, pausing only to take a labored breath. "My turn," Ideclare, mildly surprised to hear the raggedness in my voice.

I draw two daggers and throw, nailing the two men on either side of Creedy. I draw more daggers, and use the "fancy karate gimmicks" Creedy had described. Slashing, kicking, hurling daggers, plunging them into the chest of one man, the throat of another…

I exploded in violence just as I had so many times before. The effort is monumental with my injuries, but I forge ahead, and do not stop until I have Creedy alone. He shoots me, point bank into the chest, emptying his chamber. The expression he makes is one of incomprehension.

"Why won't you die?"

"Beneath this mask there is more than flesh, beneath this mask, there is an idea Mr. Creedy, and ideas are bulletproof!" I grab him then, lift him off his feet. His struggle is short, the bones of his neck snap apart beneath my hands, just as I'd promised.

I am alone, and very much alive now. I've been hit, I can feel the bullets lodged inside of me. The shield is no longer needed, I toss it on the ground, ruefully counting over seven pierced, bloody holes in the metal sheet.

The adrenaline of the fight is the only thing that allowed me to manage back to the station beneath my home. Every step is a grand task, and there is so much pain…

I stumble in, losing my hat in the process, but I hear Evey call my name. I land in a heap on the floor, the girl holding me. "I was hoping you'd still be here." I manage.

She touches me, her hand coming away bloody. "We have to stop your bleeding!"

_No, no, Evey, it's better this way, can't you see? I'll die with you, I couldn't ask for more…_

"Please don't…I'm finished, and glad for it…"

"Don't say that,"

"I told you, only truth." I remind her. I can taste the coppery tang of blood in the back of my throat. It won't be long now…

"V, I don't want you to die…"

"That is the most beautiful thing you could have ever given me." I say. "For twenty years I saw only this moment, nothing else existed, until I saw you…I fell in love with you Evey, like I no longer thought I could…"

Evey's hands grow tighter as she grips me, her voice more hysterical as she sobs my name- she cries harder than she ever has before.

_I'm sorry, Evey, I'm so sorry…_

_I love you so much, I'm sorry for causing you the pain I have, I'm sorry for everything, but I want you to live in this new world free of your old life, please don't cry over me…_

_You've given me more than I could have ever hoped for, Evey, because I will be remembered with love, I will not have died alone…_

* * *

**Evey **

V shuddered in my arms, and slipped away, taking so much of me with him. He is gone, and I never told him that I loved him…

_We could've run away together, leaving all this behind…!_

No.

V would never have run, he'd done too much to abandon the people now. He was a symbol of hope and strength, lying limply in my arms before his train of explosives.

_He won't get to see the end…_

I put him in the train, among his roses and chemicals. It will be a grand funeral- one remembered for years to come. A pang hit me hard when I realize that we have known each other for exactly one year. The only man who'd walked me home without expecting anything more than a promise to stay safe, the only man who offered knowledge, beauty and art…the only man I'd betrayed, the only man who'd used such brutal tactics in trying to set me free.

_V, what will I do without you?_

His death grieves me, my heart has never felt so swollen or painful…Finch shows up out of nowhere, and threatens me with his gun. I could already tell by the look in his eyes that he wouldn't shoot. His voice was tired, lacking in conviction…he looked ragged, exhausted from stress and too many sleepless nights.

I set the lever, watching as V- the only true man I've ever known- was carted away in his beautiful train of death. The carts disappear down a curve in the tunnel, and I bring Finch in through the Shadow Gallery. He pockets the gun and cannot help his shocked reaction to all of V's treasures.

I stop him from touching the jukebox. That was V's, and no one will touch it but me. I lead him up to the balcony, where the opening notes of the 1812 overture begin. The song reaches a crescendo, and together, Mr. Finch and I watch as the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben are blown apart in time with the music. V always did have a strong sense for the theatrical…

Finch asks the question that had eluded me for so long, and Ireturn with what is now the most obviousanswer in the world.

"So, who was he?"

"He was Edmund Dantes, and he was my father, my mother, my brother, my friend, " I can feel my throat constrict, the lump threatens to rise, tears fill my eyes.

_V…_

"He was you, and me. He was all of us."

The fireworks shot off, exploding in the air with whistling sound and bright color as Parliament is blasted apart below. It's a violent, beautiful sight. Twin spears fire off through a circle, forming V's symbol.

It's V's one last, final farewell, a V for Victory…my only regret is that he is not here to see it.


End file.
